THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


AMERICAN    SCENERY, 


In  It  1  i  f  IB.  A  I1 1  ® 


BY 


T.   ADDISON  RICHARDS,   N.    A. 


JF/77/  THIRTY-TWO  ENGRAVINGS  ON  STEEL 


gark: 

PUBLISHED    BY    LEAYITT    AND    ALLEN, 

379    BROADWAY. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  tlie  year  1854, 

BY  LEAVITT  AND  AI.LEN, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern  District  of 

New  Vork. 


BILLIK  A  BBOTUIKS,  Printeri  «nd  Stereotyjwre,  SO  North  William  street,  N.  Y. 


IN  the  following  discursive  pages  the  author  has 
taken  a  brief,  but  he  hopes  an  intelligent,  glimpse  at 
the  varying  characteristics  of  the  beautiful  natural 
scenery  of  our  country.  It  has  been  his  endeavour, 
throughout,  so  to  relieve  the  gravity  of  fact  with  the 
grace  of  fiction,  as  to  present  at  the  same  time  an  in 
structive  topography  and  an  entertaining  romance.  The 
better  to  accomplish  this  difficult  end,  he  has  assem 
bled  around  him  a  company  of  accomplished  and  genial 
travellers,  who  discuss  the  subject  familiarly  in  all  its 
phases,  each  from  his  own  peculiar  stand-point  and  after 
his  own  individuality.  It  is  not  necessary  that  the 
reader  be  here  presented  to  these  gentlemen,  since 
they  will  shake  him  by  the  hand,  and  tell  him  what 
manner  of  men  they  are,  in  the  first  chapter, — which 
subserves  the  usual  role  of  a  preface,  but  is  too  much 
an  integral  and  important  part  of  the  narrative  to  be 
so  called. 


(    8     ) 

It  is  not  the  least  of  the  author's  hopes,  that  his 
labour  may  serve,  in  a  humble  measure,  in  the  further 
development  of  the  already  very  high  appreciation  of  \ 
our  wonderful  scenery,  and  in  the  culture  of  the  pop 
ular  love  of  that  charming  Art — which  is,  at  the  same 
time,  its  interpreter  and  its  chronicler — the  Art  of  the 
Landscape  Painter,  from  the  more  legitimate  study  of 
which  he  has  turned  aside,  in  leisure  hours,  to  this  ac 
cessory  toil.  And  it  is  as  such  an  accessory  to  the 
province  of  his  own  profession,  rather  than  as  a  trespass 
upon  the  fields  of  the  sister  art  of  letters,  that  he  thus 
ventures  to  exhibit  his  work. 


UNIVERSITY,  NEW  YORK, 
Ju 


[EW  YORK,        ) 
Tuly  la*,  1854.   ) 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAQB 

Re-union  in  the  Author's  sanctum — His  despondency,  in  view  of  the  task  before 
him — Sympathy  of  his  friends,  and  cheering  promises  of  assistance — The 
theme  of  his  proposed  book  announced — The  romance  and  the  reality  of 
American  landscape :  its  physique  and  morale,  its  historic  tradition,  its 
poetic  legend,  its  incident,  adventure,  and  suggestion — General  and  hearty 
approbation  in  the  assembly  of  the  subject,  and  varied  expression  of 
opinion  upon  its  importance,  availability,  and  interest — Departure  of  the 
guests,  with  a  pledge  to  reassemble  at  intervals,  and  aid  the  author  with 
their  respective  knowledge  and  experience 13 

CHAPTER   II. 

Second  convocation  of  the  Club — Selection,  as  the  text  of  the  evening,  of  the 
picture  of  the  Park  Fountain — The  Chairman's  historic  memories  of  foun 
tains  and  aqueducts — Mr.  Vermeille's  poetic  view  of  the  matter — History  of 
the  Croton  Aqueduct — The  pleasing  and  graphic  material  it  offers  for  an 
autobiography — Mr.  Flakewhite's  romance  of  "  THE  SMILE  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN" — 
Mr.  Brownoker's  droll  anecdote  of  the  "Man  in  the  Fountain" 21 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  party  starts  southward — Visit  to  Virginia — Extraordinary  attractions  of 
the  historical  associations  of  the  country — The  great  men  of  Virginia — The 
birth-place  of  "Washington;  Mr.  Blueblack's  visit  to  the  spot — General 
absence  of  commemorative  monuments  in  America;  reflections  upon  the 


10  CONTENTS. 

PAOB 

cause  and  consequence,  importance  and  interest  of  such  memorials,  and 
illustrative  anecdote  by  the  Chairman — The  extent,  variety,  and  beauty  of 
the  scenery  of  Virginia ;  the  springs,  and  western  hills,  and  rivers — Megilp's 
disastrous  adventures  in  Weir's  Cave,  and  at  the  Natural  Bridge — Blue- 
black's  tale  of  "  LITTLE  EMMA  MUNNERLIN" — Brownoker's  brief  story  of 
"  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry,  or  "Woman's  Constancy" 41 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Still  in  Virginia — Gossip  about  the  uses  and  pleasures  of  social  re-unions — 
Mr.  Deepredde's  reflections  upon  the  historical  incident  of  the  "Crossing 
of  the  Alleghany  in  the  expedition  of  1753  ;"  his  account  of  the  adventure 
in  the  story  of  "TiiE  MAN  OF  DUTY" — Flakewhite's  dramatic  historiette  of 
"  GABRIBLLE  DE  ST.  PIERRE" 65 


CHAPTER  Y. 

The  travellers  proceed  to  the  Carolinas  and  Georgia — Conversation  upon  the 
prospects  of  art  in  America,  and  the  influences  at  work  for  its  development 
and  advancement — Mr.  Vermeille's  tale  of  "  THE  MOTHERS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION," 
and  Mr.  Deepredde's  Mesmeric  Visit  to  "  MARGARET  HOUSE  ;"  sequels  to  the 
stories  of  "The  Man  of  Duty"  and  "  Gabrielle  de  St.  Pierre"— Glimpses  of 
the  scenery  of  the  South-eastern  States,  from  the  lowlands  to  the  moun 
tains — Halt  at  the  Falls  of  Toccoa — "TnE  OLD  LEGEND  OF  TOCCOA" 91 


CHAPTER  YI. 

The  Falls  of  the  Tallulah,  in  Georgia ;  offerings  of  the  poets — Nacoochee,  and 
other  neighbouring  beauties — Ignorance  of  the  mountaineers  in  the  South 
east,  and  difficulties  of  travel — Megilp's  wicked  tricks  upon  the  natives — Mr. 
Brownoker's  exploits  as  a  Frenchman — Flakewhite's  story  of  "  KITTY,  THE 
WOODMAN'S  DAUGHTER" 109 

CHAPTER  VII. 

The  South-west — Romantic  adventures  and  sufferings  of  the  early  explorers — 
De  Soto,  and  his  companions — Mr.  Asphaltum's  account  of  his  visit  to 
the  Mississippi — Local  oddities  of  Western  character — Tale  of  "MISTLETOE 
HALL"  137 


CONTENTS.  11 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGE 

Tower  Rock,  on  the  Mississippi — Continuation  and  conclusion  of  the  romance 
of  "  MISTLETOE  HALL" 157 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Progress  of  the  Club  to  the  Great  West — Megilp's  recollections  of  the  Missouri 
River;  his  adventures  at  the  "Gates  of  the  Rocky  Mountains" — The  great 
Prairies — California  and  Oregon — Modes  of  hunting  the  bison — Megilp's 
"FIRST  AND  LAST  BUFFALO  HUNT" .  181 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  West — The  Ohio  River  and  Diamond  Island — Cave  in  the  rock — Mammoth 
Cave — The  rivers  of  Kentucky — Scenery  of  the  States  touching  the  north 
bank  of  the  Ohio — Peep  at  Minnesota,  Iowa,  Michigan,  Wisconsin,  and  the 
Great  Lakes — Megilp's  adventure,  which  proves  to  be  "NOTHING  AFTER  ALL!"  195 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Return  of  the  travellers  to  the  North,  and  visit  to  Lake  George — Extent  and 
beauty  of  the  lake — Scenery  of  New  York  and  New  England — Pre-eminence 
of  Horicon — Its  characteristics  in  relation  to  foreign  lake-views — The  moun 
tain  shores  and  islands  of  Horicon — Social  pleasures  of  the  region — Historic 
memories — Mr.  Asphaltutn's  story  of  "TiiE  Scour  OF  HORICON,  or  ROGERS'S 
SLIDE" — Mr.  Brownoker's  tale  of  "  DIAMOND  ISLE,  or  THE  STRAY  GLOVE" 211 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Visit  to  the  Adirondacks  and  the  famous  Saranac  Lake  region — Its  celebrity 
for  picturesque  beauty,  and  for  its  capacity  as  a  hunting  and  fishing  ground 
— Boating  on  the  mountain-lakes — A  bear-adventure — Blueblack's  doleful 
encounter  with  a  wild-cat,  in  the  great  Indian  Pass — The  hunters,  and 
their  manner  of  life — Anecdotes  of  a  sporting  parson — Adventurous  passage 
through  the  woods,  from  the  Saranacs  to  the  Adirondacks — Mr.  Asphal- 
tum's  recollections  of  "  THE  HERMIT  OF  THE  ADIRONDACKS" 235 


12  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

PAOB 

The  Middle  States— The  Hudson — The  Catskills;  favourite  summer  studio  of 
the  artists:  landscape-painters  Cole,  Durand,  and  others — The  Erie  Railway 
and  the  Delaware  River — Valley  of  Wyoming  and  scenery  of  the  Susque- 
hanna — The  Juniata,  the  Schuylkill,  and  the  Lehigh — Scenery  of  Delaware, 
New  Jersey,  and  Maryland — Coal-beds  and  Canals  of  Pennsylvania — Tale  of 
"LOVE'S  LABOUR  WON" — The  Chairman's  narrative  of  "ME.  BHOWN'S  STRATEGY"  257 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

Our  travellers  and  their  wanderings,  with  a  brief  excursion  into  New  England — 
Ease  and  profit  of  travel  there — Partition  of  the  route  ;  Mr.  Megilp  retracing 
his  rambles  in  Maine ;  Mr.  Vermeille  exploring  the  white  hills  and  lakes  of 
New  Hampshire;  and  Mr.  Flakewhite  strolling  lovingly  amidst  the  rich 
valley-lands  of  the  Housatonic  and  the  Connecticut — Antiquity  of  New 
England;  its  stores  of  Indian  and  revolutionary  reminiscence — Blueblack 
on  the  peaks  of  Mansfield  and  the  Camel's  Hump,  and  in  the  valleys  of 
Vermont — Brownoker's  merry  experience  of  the  social  characters  and  habits 
of  New  England — His  graphic  report  of  the  anniversary  festival  of  the 
society  of  "WOMAN'S  RIGIITS" — Mr.  Megilp's  "SLIGHT  MISTAKE" — Farewell 
salutations  of  the  guests,  and  the  author's  valediction 296 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE  wit  and  wisdom  of  a  pleasant  circle  of  gay  friends  who, 
while  they  never  exceed,  yet  always  quite  fill  up,  the  limits  of 
becoming  mirth,  had,  through  a  long  evening,  dashed  a  flood 
of  laughing  sunshine  upon  the  sombre-hued  walls  of  our  antique 
studio.  The  sparkling  coruscations  of  their  mad  humour  availed, 
however,  but  partially  to  exorcise  the  heavy  shadows  which  hung 
like  a  pall  over  our  usually  buoyant  spirits.  One  disquieting 
thought  oppressed  us,  and,  as  usual,  awakened  our  entire  schedule 
of  ugly  remembrances,  which  to  be  sure  had  no  earthly  relation 
ship  to  the  first  intrusive  visitor,  yet  came  in  that  hateful  gre 
garious  spirit  to  which  misery  is  proverbially  given.  While  the 
hours  were  flying  in  the  brilliant,  yet,  as  it  then  seemed  to  us, 
bootless  pleasure  of  social  gossip,  we  were  thinking  of  duties 
deferred,  of  "time  misspent,  and  fair  occasions  gone  forever  by;" 
and  in  that  wretched  state  of  mental  languor,  which  though  it 
sees,  yet  is  too  feeble  to  confront  and  conquer  difficulty,  we  were 
dreaming  of  our  neglected  duties — to  you,  reader;  of  the  ways 
and  means  of  fittingly  acquitting  ourself  of  the  task  of  preparing 
these  pages;  wondering  how  on  earth  we  could  possibly  do  the 
deed,  and  that,  too,  within  the  brief  time  which  our  publishers 


14  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

allowed  us.  We  half  regretted  that  we  had  so  rashly  assumed 
the  labour.  We  obeyed  the  behest  of  Sir  Philip  Sydney,  to  look 
within  our  own  heart  and  write,  but  we  found,  like  Sir  Charles 
Coldstream  when  he  gazed  disgusted  into  the  crater  of  Vesuvius, 
that  there  "  was  nothing  in  it !"  We  had  recently  laid  aside 
that  charming  bouquet  of  "  Passion  Flowers"  which  had  just 
blossomed  so  sweetly  in  the  literary  parterre,  and  a  lingering 
fragrance  came  to  us,  in  the  remembrance  of  the  lines — 

"I  never  made  a  poem,  dear  friend, 
I  never  sat  me  down  and  said, 
This  cunning  brain  and  patient  hand 
Shall  fashion  something  to  be  read. 

"Men  often  came  to  me  and  prayed 
I  should  indite  a  fitting  verse 
For  fast  or  festival,  or  in 
Some  stately  pageant  to  rehearse, 
(As  if,  than  Balaam  more  endowed, 
I,  of  mj-self,  could  bless  or  curse.)" 

The  bricks,  we  felt,  should  be  made,  but,  alas !  where  was  thu 
straw?  In  brief,  we  suspected  ourself  of  decided  stupidity,  and 
could,  in  no  way,  reason  us  out  of  the  grateful  conviction.  Our 
evil  mood,  though  not  virulent  enough  to  check  the  humour  of 
our  guests,  was  yet  sufficiently  evident  to  attract  notice  and  to 
elicit  sympathy.  A  dozen  clever  and  kind  doctors  were  anxiously 
occupied  with  our  moral  pulse.  We  explained  our  symptoms, 
and  were  soon  cheered  and  flattered  into  a  more  quiet  and 
hopeful  state. 

"The  waters  of  your  fancy,"  said  Mr.  Brownoker,  "will, 
by  all  hydraulic  law,  soon  remount  to  the  desired  height;  for, 
pardon  the  compliment,  is  not  the  reservoir  lofty  enough  for  all 
your  needs?  Some  vulgar  trash  temporarily  obstructs  the 
conduit — a  buckwheat  cake  too  much  at  breakfast,  perhaps,  or 


THE    MEETING   OF   THE   TRAVELLERS.  '15 

wine  and  walnuts  too  abundant  at  dinner.  Eest  assured,  my 
dear  boy,  that  what  is  poetically  called  "a  mind  diseased,"  is, 
in  the  vulgate,  often  nothing  more  than  pork  and  beans  ad 
nauseam.  We'll  soon  blow  away  the  blues,  and  bring  you  back 
to  concert  pitch !" 

"  Kemember  Mrs.  Chick,  and  'make  an  effort,'"  said  Mr. 
Brownoker. 

"  You  have  but  to  meet  the  enemy  and  he  is  yours,"  added 
Mr.  Megilp. 

"  Forget  not  Sir  Joshua,  '  Nothing  is  denied  to  well-directed 
labour,'  "  said  Deepredde. 

"  Or  Eichelieu  calling  back  the  spent  fire  and  energy  of  his 
early  years,  'In  the  bright  lexicon  of  youth  there's  no  such 
word  as  fail.'  " 

"  The  sacred  text,  '  As  thy  day  so  shall  thy  strength  be.'  " 

"  Caesar,   '  Veni,  vidi,  vici!"1 

Kefreshed  with  this  torrent  of  cheering  words,  our  courage 
and  hope  were  rapidly  springing  into  life  again,  and  when  the 
last  scrap  of  conclusive  and  flattering  raillery,  "Kemember  your 
self,  arid  '  the  country  is  safe !' "  came  to  our  ears,  the  stainless 
pages  before  us  seemed  rapidly  to  pass  from  fair  manuscript  to 
corrected  proof,  and  from  proof  to  peerless  volume.  Countless 
editions  followed  each  other  through  our  brightening  view,  and 
for  very  modesty  we  closed  our  eyes  upon  "  the  opinions  of  the 
press." 

"  Your  book  shall  be  finished  as  speedily  as  Aladdin's  castle ! 
We  will  all  lend  you  a  hand,"  cried  our  guests.  "  We  will 
have  a  literary  '  bee.'  " 

"  You  shall  cut  out  the  work  and  we  will  '  play  tailor  to 
the  Muses!'" 

"  What  is  your  theme  ?     Not  metaphysics — aye  ?" 

"  Not  sermons  ?" 

"  Not  politics  ?" 


16  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

"  Not  temperance  ?"  chimed  in  one  upon  another,  the  associated 
face  sensibly  lengthening  the  while. 

"By  no  means!"  we  hastened  to  explain.  "Neither  phi 
losophy,  religion,  nor  morals.  Heaven  forbid  !  We  have  a  more 
genial  topic — the  Romance  and  Reality  of  American  Land 
scape — its  physique  and  morale,  its  historic  tradition,  its  poetic 
legend,  its  incident,  adventure,  and  suggestion.  What  say  you 
to  the  text?" 

"  You  could  not  have  a  happier  one,  and  we,  learned  in  the 
book  of  Nature,  are  the  very  preachers  to  discourse  -thereon. 
Are  not  you,  yourself,  are  we  not  all,  painters  and  poets — 
life-long  worshippers  of  Nature?  Have  we  not  laid  our  souls 
upon  her  sacred  altar  ?  Do  we  not  ken  her  in  all  her  thousand 
mystic  utterances,  and  will  she  not  lend  us  the  living  inspiration 
of  her  smile  as  we  seek  to  chant  her  praise?  Yerily  a  noble 
text,  and  now  for  the  heads  of  the  sermon !" 

"  Our  publishers,"  we  explained,  "  are  happily  possessed  of  a 
portfolio  of  pictures  of  many  of  the  most  charming  and  famous 
bits  of  American  scenery — a  portfolio  which  they  laudably  desire 
to  give  to  the  world — and  we  are  pledged  to  play  master  of 
ceremonies  on  the  occasion,  to  expatiate  upon  the  panorama  as 
it  passes." 

"  A  pleasant  task  enough,  in  which,  as  we  have  said,  we  will 
all  assist  you.  In  our  periodical  conclaves  here  we  will  take 
subject  after  subject,  and  each  one  shall  give  up  that  which  is 
most  within  him  of  his  experience,  adventure  and  imaginings 
of  the  several  scenes.  We  could  not  have  more  delightful 
occupation  as  we  sip  our  sherry  and  puff  our  havanas.  As  old 
Phocylides  says — 

"  Tis  right  for  good  wine-bibbing  people 
Not  to  let  the  jug  pace  round  the  board  like  a  cripple, 
But  gaily  to  chat  while  discussing  their  tipple." 


THE   ROUTE   AND   ITS  PLEASURES.  17 

"Nothing  could  be  more  agreeable,"  said  Mr.  Yermeille, 
"than,  while  sitting  arouud  our  winter  fire,  to  live  our  joyous 
summer  rambles  over  again,  to  retrace  our  merry  courses  from 
Maine  to  Texas,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific.  We  will 
emerge  from  the  rank  everglades  of  Florida  and  watch  the 
buffalo  as  they  scour  the  boundless  prairie.  Look  from  the 
proud  summit  of  Mount  Washington  over  the  waters  of  Winni- 
piseogee  and  Squam,  across  valley  and  hill,  village  and  city,  to 
the  ocean-bounded  horizon.  From  the  lyric  peaks  of  the 
Catskills  we  will  scan  the  windings  of  the  peerless  Hudson. 
On  the  Adirondacks  we  will  drink  in  the  beauties  of  Horicon 
and  Champlain,  and  the  verdant  sweeps  of  the  green  hills.  Our 
barque  shall  thread  the  tortuous  path  of  the  Mississippi  and  the 
Missouri.  We  will  repose  ourselves  by  prattling  cascade,  or  listen 
to  the  sterner  voice  of  Niagara  '  pouring  its  deep  eternal  bass 
in  Nature's  anthem.'  '  Lord !  what  a  tramp  we'll  have !' J: 

"  We  will  rekindle  our  fancies,"  added  Mr.  Flakewhite, 
"  with  the  wild  legends  which  the  red  man  has  bequeathed  to 
the  scenes  of  his  lost  home,  and  strengthen  our  patriotism  and 
virtue  with  remembrances  of  the  gallant  deeds  of  Trenton, 
Saratoga,  Yorktown,  Champlain,  Bennington,  and  many  other 
consecrated  fields." 

"  If  our  scene,"  said  a  sculpturing  friend,  who  had  just 
returned  to  us  after  a  long  sojourn  in  Europe,  "were  but 
laid  amidst  the  storied  haunts  of  the  Old  World,  and  our 
characters  culled  from  its  peculiar  and  picturesque  populations, 
we  should  have  more  plastic  material  to  work  with  than  we 
shall  find  in  the  rugged  quarries  of  this  new  land,  untutored 
by  the  touch  of  Art,  unsoftened  by  the  breath  of  Time ;  and 
a  people  too  active  and  practical  for  poet's  uses." 

"  A  mistaken  notion  of  yours,  my  dear  friend,"  rejoined  Mr. 
Flakewhite.  "I  grant  you  that,  to  the  common  eye  and  feel- 

^w 

ing,  the  story  of  our  battle-fields,  the  freshness  and  newness  of 
2 


18  THE   ROMANCE    OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

our  natural  scenery,  may  seem  tame,  wanting  the  poetic  veil 
of  distance;  may  be  belittled  by  its  contemporary  character;  but 
AVO,  I  hope,  are  men  of  larger  vision,  possessed  of  that  unpre 
judiced  and  prophetic  spirit  which,  like  the  catholic  power  of 
love,  '  lends  a  precious  seeing  to  the  eye ;'  revealing  to  us  the 
immortal  essence  of  actions  and  things,  stripped  of  all  passing, 
degrading  accessories.  It  is  only  your  shallow-pated  fellow  for 
whom  '  too  much  freedery  breeds  despise.' 

"  It  is  in  the  very  freshness  you  condemn,  added  to  the 
grandeur,  scope,  and  vigour  of  our  landscape,  and  to  the  same 
qualities  in  the  morale  of  our  people,  that  our  strength  lies : 
^qualities  pointing  to  a  larger  humanity,  and  to  a  higher  and 
nobler  civilization,  than  the  world  has  yet  been  blessed  with. 
We,  as  poets  and  artists,  are  favoured  in  being  called  upon  to 
water  this  grander  spirit  rather  than  to  expound  the  meaner 
though  more  dainty  aims  of  the  old  art  and  thought. 

"  Now,  last,  though  not  least,  were  our  land,  in  poetic  and 
philosophic  inspiration,  a  thousand  times  behind  all  other  climes, 
rather  than  so  gloriously  before  them,  is  it  not  our  own  land, 
and  is  not  the  offering  of  our  love  and  service  a  duty,  no 
less  than  a  delight? 


0,  my  native  land! 


How  shouldst  thou  prove  aught  else  but  dear  and  holy 

To  me,  who  from  thy  lakes  and  mountain  hills, 

Thy  clouds,  thy  quiet  dales,  thy  rocks  and  seas, 

Have  drunk  in  all  my  intellectual  life, 

All  sweet  sensations,  all  ennobling  thoughts, 

All  adoration  of  the  God  in  Nature ; 

All  lovely  and  all  honourable  things — 

Whatever  makes  this  mortal  spirit  feel 

The  joy  and  greatness  of  its  future  being. 

There  lives  not  form,  nor  feeling  in  my  soul, 

Unborrowed  from  my  country !' " 


THE   ROUTE   AND   ITS   PLEASURES.  19 

"  But,  will  our  subject,  think  you,  interest  the  popular 
heart?"  asked  Mr.  Brownoker. 

"  Nothing  more  so,"  responded  Mr.  Deepredde,  "  for  it 
touches  a  gentle  and  universal  chord  in  the  human  soul.  Since 
the  halcyon  days  when  Adam  and  Eve  rejoiced  with  exceeding 
joy  beneath  the  glorious  skies  of  Paradise,  Nature  has  ever  *• 
shared  bountifully  in  the  love  and  adoration  of  man.  This 
feeling  is  an  instinct,  no  less  than  a  refinement,  in  our  souls.  i 
The  degraded  Guebre,  and  the  poor  Indian,  with  untutored  mind, 
worship  the  elemental  principles  of  Nature,  bowing  down  in 
mystic  rite  to  the  sacred  fire,  or  gazing  up,  with  rapt  vision,  to 
the  throne  of  the  Great  Spirit,  the  blazing  sun;  the  wretched 
negro  no  less,  as  he  bows  to  the  god  of  poisons,  enshrined  in 
the  foliage  of  the  poison  tree,  or  prostrates  himself  before  the 
omnipotence  of  the  waters,  in  his  prayers  to  the  crocodile ;  so, 
too,  the  followers  of  Zoroaster,  kneeling  in  the  free  and  unpol 
luted  air  of  the  grand  mountain  tops. 

"  From  the  lowliest  to  the  loftiest  spreads  this  all-pervading 
love.  'He,'  says  Pindar,  'deserves  to  be  called  the  most  excel 
lent,  who  knows  most  of  Nature.'  '  Nothing,'  Cicero  tells  us, 
'  is  so  delightful  in  literature,  as  that  branch  which  enables  us 
to  discern  the  immensity  of  Nature,  and  which,  teaching  us 
magnanimity,  rescues  the  soul  from  obscurity.'  Horace  dis 
dained  the  glitter  of  Augustus's  court,  in  the  quiet  of  his  Sabine 
home.  Then  we  hear  of  the 

'  Olive-grove  of  Academe, 
Plato's  retirement^  \vhere  the  attic  bird 
Trills  her  thick  warbled  notes  the  summer  long.' 

Where  and  when,  indeed,  have  greatness  or  goodness  astonished 
and  blessed  the  world,  unnurtured  by  the  sacred  manna  which 
Nature,  in  her  varied  forms,  provides?" 

At  this  point  of  his  discourse,  Mr.  Deepredde  was  suddenly 


20  THE   ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

brought  up  by  a  sacrilegious  hint  that  the  small  hours  were 
coming;  and  a  general  movement  among  our  guests  ensued. 

" A  Afercredil"  said  one  of  us. 

"  We  will  not  fail  you !"  cried  another. 

"  Have  your  portfolio  ready,"  advised  a  third. 

"  With  the  especial  subject  of  the  evening,"  said  a  fourth. 

u  And  we  will  each  weave  around  it  our  garland  of  fact 
and  fiction,"  promised  a  fifth. 

"  And  our  word  for  it !"  sang  out  the  last,  as  his  form 
vanished  in  the  outer  darkness,  "enough  copy  shall  be  elicited 
to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  the  most  carnivorous  'devil'  that  ever 
worried  the  soul  of  poor  author  :  and  of  a  quality,  too,  let 
us  flatter  ourselves,  to  win  the  patient  ear  of  many  a  pleased 
reader." 


CHAPTER    II. 

ON  the  appointed  evening,  our  impromptu  committee  re-as 
sembled.  Mr.  Deepredde  was  called  to  the  chair,  and  the 
minutes  of  the  previous  meeting — that  is,  dear  reader,  the  fore 
going  chapter — were  read  and  "  ordered  to  be  printed."  The 
portfolio  was  opened,  and  we  selected  from  its  stores  the 
accompanying  charming  picture  of  the  famous  Park  fountain : 

"  We  cannot  do  better  than  thus  begin  at  home,"  observed 
an  original  and  profound  thinker.  "Let  us  avoid  the  vulgar 
error  of  undervaluing  those  beauties  and  delights  which  lie 
within  our  daily  reach." 

"  Fountains,"  solemnly  observed  the  respected  chairman,  by 
way  of  initiating  the  subject  of  the  night,  "have  from  the  remotest 
periods,  and  among  all  people,  been  objects  of  especial  interest. 
In  varied  shape  and  costliness,  they  embellished  all  the  chief 
towns  of  ancient  Greece.  Old  Pausanius  has  left  us  accounts 
of  many  of  these  favourite  structures.  Among  others,  he  men 
tions  a  most  remarkable  one  at  Bpiclemus,  in  the  sacred  grove 
of  Esculapius ;  and  two  yet  more  interesting  at  Messena,  loved 
by  the  populace  under  the  names  of  Arsinoe  and  Clepsydra. 
We  read  also  of  beautiful  fountains  in  the  city  of  Megara,  in 


22  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN"  LANDSCAPE. 

Achaiai ;  of  the  famous  Pirene  at  Corinth,  encircled  by  a  marble 
wall  sculptured  with  various  grottoes,  from,  which  the  waters 
flowed ;  and  of  the  Leina,  also  at  Corinth,  surrounded  by  a 
grand  portico,  under  which  were  seats  for  the  public  ease  and 
comfort  in  the  sultry  summer  evenings. 

"  All  of  us  have  delighted  our  fancies,  and  many  of  us  have 
blessed  our  vision,  with  these  rich  and  classic  altars  of  the  water 
sprite  in  the  art  and  nature-loving  land  of  Italy.  For  my  own 
part,  though  Pope  seems  to  think  it  but  a  shabby  sort  of 
warming  '  to  think  on  the  frightful  Caucasus,'  yet  on  many  a 
scorching  August  night,  in  this  salamander  town  of  ours,  I 
have  cooled  my  brow  and  brain  with  the  remembered  sparkles 
and  breezy  drippings  of  the  merry  waters  by  St.  Peters,  at 
Frescati,  and  Termini,  and  Mount  Janiculum  ;  in  the  dreamy- 
gardens  of  the  Belvidere,  and  at  the  lovely  villas  of  Aldobran- 
dini  and  the  Borghese. 

"  I  doubt  not  that  we  all  cherish  equally  grateful  recollec 
tions  of  the  fountained  beauties  of  Paris — that  city  of  fountains 
— a  title,  let  me  observe,  en  passant,  which  I  trust  our  own 
goodly  city  of  Gotham  will  one  day  successfully  dispute ;  for 
surely,  to  speak  after  the  manner  of  rude  men,  '  she  has  got 
it  in  her.'  As  I  was  saying,  though,  we  have  lingered  many 
a  happy  hour  in  the  sweet  watered  groves  and  wilds  of  Ver 
sailles,  lounged  delighted  at  St.  Cloud,  or  strolled  with  outward 
and  inward  satisfaction  through  the  passages  of  the  Tuileries." 

"  Our  respected  chairman,  in  his  learned  remarks,"  observed 
Mr.  Yermeille,  "  has  touched  upon  the  poetry  and  sentiment  of 
our  theme,  though  very  much  more  might  be  said  on  this  head : 
much  more  (as  frightened  eyes  glanced  from  all  sides  of  the 
table)  than  I  have  any  thought  of  now  saying.  That  first 
and  most  perfect  of  women,  our  great  mother,  Eve,  made  her 
sinless  toilet  in  the  mirroring  waters.  The  whispers  of  the 
fountain  fell  in  cadence  with  the  love-songs  of  Jacob  and 


FOUNTAINS. — THE   CROTON.  23 

Eebecca.  It  was  by  the  fountain  side  that  our  Saviour  dis 
coursed  to  the  Samaritan  woman.  Fountains  are  associated  with 
countless  beautiful  incidents  and  histories  in  the  life  of  mankind. 
They  have  ever  been  a  treasured  theme  and  simile  of  the  poets. 
The  sacred  writers  forever  sing  of  the  fountains.  Shakspeare 
alludes  to  them  continually ;  so  Milton,  Sidney,  Shelley,  and 
indeed  all  who  have  ever  uttered  the  breathings  of  truth  and 
beauty." 

"  Before  we  fall  into  too  discursive  a  gossip,"  said  a  brother 
of  an  inquiring  turn  of  mind,  "  would  it  not  be  well  to  glance 
at  the  genealogy  of  our  theme,  by  a  brief  review  of  the  history 
of  its  great  source,  the  immortal  Croton  ?" 

A  general  nod  of  approbation  followed  this  suggestion,  and 
all  eyes  turned  intuitively  to  the  chair. 

"  Not  to  trespass  upon  your  time,  gentlemen,"  commenced 
Mr.  Deepredde,  "  I  will  say  nothing  of  the  achievements  of  the 
Egyptians  under  Sesostris ;  of  Semiramis,  in  Babylonia ;  of  the 
Israelites  in  the  days  of  Solomon  and  Hezekiah ;  or  of  other 
stupendous  aqueducts  of  ancient  art  and  enterprise ;  but  come 
at  once  to  our  own — a  work  which,  in  magnitude  and  value, 
may  rank  with  the  trophies  of  any  period.  As  long  ago  as 
1793,  Dr.  Joseph  Brown  proposed  to  supply  our  city  with  water 
by  bringing  the  river  Bronx  to  Harlem  in  an  open  canal, 
raising  it  to  the  required  height  by  steam,  and  conducting  it 
to  the  town  in  a  six-inch  pipe." 

"  The  doctor  was  an  old  fogy !"  interrupted  a  progressive 
gentleman.  "  The  Bronx  and  a  six-inch  pipe  !  pooh  !" 

"  True,"  resumed  the  chairman,  "  that  was  the  day  of  small 
things ;  but  still  we  must  not  be  unmindful  of  the  Doctor :  he 
planted  the  humble  seed  from  which  has  grown  the  sturdy 
Croton.  This  seed  first  shot  up  under  the  culturing  hand  of 
our  honoured  fellow-citizen,  Colonel  De  Witt  Clinton,  in  the  year 
1832.  In  1835  the  bud  was  fully  formed,  and  on  the  Fourth 


24  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

of  July,  1842 — many  of  you  remember  the  merry  day  and  its 
rejoicings,  gentlemen — the  great  work  was  completed ;  and,  with 
music  and  merriment,  the  Croton  Lake,  forty  long  miles  away, 
was  escorted  over  hill  and  valley  to  the  firesides  of  our  people, 
and  endowed  forever  with  the  freedom  of  the  city.  This  intro 
duction,  gentlemen,  cost  us  some  twelve  millions  of  dollars." 

"  It  has  just  occurred  to  me,  Mr.  Chairman,"  said  Mr.  Ver- 
meille,  "  that  should  either  of  us  be  in  want  of  a  theme  for 
our  muse,  we  might  happily  find  it  in  an  autobiography  of  the 
Croton.  What  an  epitome  of  human  happiness  and  misery  its 
varied  story  would  present !  What  changeful  experiences  it 
must  gather  in  its  passage  from  the  peaceful  seclusion  of  its 
native  hills  through  the  thousand  scenes  of  joy  and  sorrow, 
of  virtue  and  vice,  which  it  sees  within  the  voiceless  walls 
of  this  mad  capital,  to  its  final  home  in  the  great  ocean  of 
waters.  Here,  with  gentle  sympathy  and  sweet  hope,  it  kisses 
the  sinless  brow  of  the  babe  at  the  holy  font,  and  there  sighingly 
seeks  to  cool  the  fevered  tongue  of  the  dying  sinner.  ISTow  it 
gives  hearty  greeting  to  the  thirsty  labourer,  sings  gaily  in  his 
humble  kettle,  boils  his  frugal  dinner  with  a  will,  and  anon,  it 
shrinks  from  the  hated  association  with  the  poisoned  cup  of  the 
drunkard!  Oh!  a  merry  elf — a  sorrowing  slave — is  the  Croton!" 

"  You  remember,  gentlemen,  no  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Flakewhite, 
"  that  graphic  Croton  story  of  Hoffman's,  called  the  '  Man  in 
the  Reservoir,'  in  which  he  so  thrillingly  and  philosophically 
analyzes  the  varying  emotions  of  his  hero,  plunged  beyond  help 
in  the  deep  waters,  and  hour  after  hour,  in  the  silent  night, 
vainly  seeking  a  means  of  ascent  in  the  steep  mural  banks  I" 

"  A  capital  and  most  effective  picture !  Apropos,  are  there 
no  legends  or  tales  associated  with  the  history  of  our  fountain, 
or  has  its  life  been  too  brief  to  gather  them  ?" 

"Enough,  and  winsome  ones  too,  without  doubt,  if  it  could 
but  speak  for  itself." 


THE  SMILE  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  25 

"  Poor  thing !  Will  not  some  imaginative  brother  speak  for 
it?  Brownoker,  suppose  you  concoct  us  a " 

"Punch?" 

"  No,  a  romance.     It  is  quite  in  your  line." 

"  Not  for  the  present  occasion.  The  story  of  our  fountain 
should  be  one  of  dainty  sentiment.  Flakewhite  is  your  man." 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Flakewhite  at  length,  and  after 
much  persistence  on  the  part  of  his  friends,  "as  my  turn  must 
come  at  some  time,  I  submit.  I  do  not  vouch  for  the  literal 
truth  of  what  I  am  about  to  say  to  you.  I  tell  the  tale  simply 
as  it — comes  to  my  fancy.  Listen  then  to  the  romance  of 


wile  of  tlje  Joutttahu 

o          *— ' 


"  Not  many  years  ago,  a  young  lad  came  from  the  seclusion 
of  the  country  to  this  bustling  city,  in  confident  quest  of  fame 
and  fortune.  This  was  no  strange  occurrence.  Hundreds  are 
thus  daily  coming,  and  disappointment,  only,  is  but  too  often  the 
sad  reward  of  their  bright  and  credulous  hopes.  Our  hero  was 
not  of  these  unfortunates.  He  was  doomed  to  struggle  no  less 
than  they;  but  not,  like  them,  to  sink  in  the  trial.  He  came 
unknown,  unfriended,  and  with  empty  purse.  He  felt  the  cold 
charities  of  the  rude  world,  and  ate  the  bread  of  bitterness. 
He  swallowed  to  the  dregs  the  cup  of  hope  deferred  and  toil 
too  long  unrewarded.  His  ambition  was  to  be  a  painter;  and 
though  his  sensitive  and  haughty  spirit  illy  brooked  the  slavish 
labour,  yet  want  and  necessity  compelled  him  to  perform  the 
humblest  services — the  lowest  drudgery — of  his  art. 

"  He  was  a  youth  of  strong  heart  and  brave  will.  He  was 
possessed  of  all  that  subtile  delicacy  and  spirituality  of  feeling, 
that  romance  and  beauty  of  soul,  which  instinctively  seeks  com- 


26  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

munion  with  all  that  is  most  gentle  and  exalted  in  our  nature, 
and  which  finds  its  development  in  thought  and  action  far 
above  the  common  interests  and  pursuits  of  men  ;  yet  no  less 
was  he  imbued  with  that  practical  and  philosophic  spirit  which, 
though  it  be  but  for  the  end's  sake,  rightly  estimates  the  value 
of  the  humble  means  by  which  the  loftiest,  no  less  than  the 
lowliest,  success  must  be  won.  He  was  eager  to  reach  the  goal, 
yet  patient  in  the  race.  His  gaze  soared  to  heaven,  but  he 
forgot  not  the  earth  which  sustained  his  feet. 

"  Day  after  day,  and,  indeed,  year  upon  year,  he  pursued 
his  silent  toil,  renewing  his  hope  and  strength  in  communion 
with  the  pure  and  beautiful  spirit  of  Nature  as  often  as  his 
wearying  labours  permitted  him  to  seek  the  home  of  his  heart 
in  the  sunlight  and  shade  of  the  country.  "When,  in  procesa 
of  time,  the  gay  prattle  of  the  new  Park  Fountain  one  bright 
sunny  morning  startled  his  wondering  ears,  in  the  very  midst 
of  the  dull  scenes  of  his  daily  life,  his  heart  leaped  up  with 
the  dancing  waters,  and  their  joyous  voice  spoke  to  his  soul 
then,  as  ever  after,  in  glad  whispers  of  sympathy  and  hope 
It  brought  back  to  his  remembrance  the  smiling  eyes  of  the 
mother  he  would  never  see  again  ;  of  the  home  from  which  he 
was  an  exile.  It  filled  his  spirit  with  indescribable  emotions 
of  pleasure,  and,  from  that  hour  forth,  exercised  over  him  a 
strange  and  irresistible  fascination.  It  was  the  bright  far-off 
star  of  his  wonder  and  love,  bending  down  to  his  ear  in 
familiar  converse.  No  matter  for  cold  or  hunger,  for  exhaus 
tion  or  despondency,  he  was  ever,  in  his  leisure  hours,  at  early 
morn,  and  in  the  waning  night,  invincibly  drawn  by  the  magic 
spell  of  the  fountain.  The  edge  of  the  murmuring  basin  grew 
to  be  his  home.  Here  he  would  sit  through  unobserved  hours, 
gazing  upwards  at  the  pearly  drops,  or  down  into  the  darker 
floods,  seeing,  in  each,  fantastical  or  profound  minglings  of  the 
light  and  shade  of  life.  Many  a  touching  history  of  joy  and 


THE  SMILE  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  27 

sorrow,  many  an  earnest  lesson  of  cheer  and  of  chiding,  he 
read  in  this  mystic  page ;  and  though  sometimes  the  sadder, 
he  yet  grew  ever  wiser  and  stronger  by  their  teachings. 

"  One  quiet  summer  evening,  thus  musing  in  pleased  abstrac 
tion,  his  face  grew  beautiful  with  the  light  of  pleasure  as  his 
eye  caught  the  reflection  of  a  smile,  sweeter  than  often  blesses 
either  the  waking  or  sleeping  vision  of  the  dreamer.  More  than 
once  before  he  had  seen  this  spirit  of  the  waters — for  spirit 
only  he  seemed  to  think  it,  since  it  never  had  occurred  to 
him  to  look  up  for  the  original  of  the  sweet  face.  I  know 
not  how  long  he  might  now  have  continued  to  gaze  upon  the 
beauteous  image,  had  not  a  light,  merry  laugh  at  his  side 
recalled  him  to  earth,  and  revealed  to  his  startled  perceptions 
the  living  form  of  the  fair  being  whom  he  had  worshipped 
only  as  a  dream. 

"  Frederic  Marzan — so  was  the  youth  named — bowed  slightly, 
half  involuntarily,  and  half  as  in  apology  for  the  temerity  of 
his  intent  gaze. 

"  '  You  are  a  devoted  dreamer,  sir,'  said  the  lady.  '  I  have 
been  looking  in  vain  for  the  object  of  your  search  in  the 
fountain.  Pray,  may  I  ask  what  you  see  there  so  charming?' 

"  '  A  vision  of  beauty,  madam,'  answered  Frederic,  his  truant 
speech  quickly  brought  back  by  her  gay  and  cordial  voice  and 
manner,  and  speaking  with  his  wonted  grace  and  gallantry, 
though  with  an  earnestness  and  truth  of  expression  not  always 
the  soul  of  such  graces — '  a  vision,  madam,  scarcely  less  fixed 
in  my  memory  and  fancy,  now  that  I  look  upon  your  living 
face,  than  when  I  watched  its  smile  in  the  fountain.' 

"  The  lady  laughed  merrily,  though  evidently  not  displeased 
with  the  bold  compliment. 

"  '  Your  courtesy,  sir,  is  as  graceful  as  it  is  long  delayed,' 
she  rejoined,  in  a  voice  of  frank  coquetry  which  her  patrician 
face  and  bearing  could  well  afford.  '  I  have  often  stood  by 


28         THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

your  side  here,  wondering  what  odd  confidences  you  and  the 
fountain  were  exchanging — what  mad  tales  you  were  telling 
each  other ;  yet  never  until  now  have  you  deigned  to  honour 
me  with  any  consciousness  of  my  presence.' 

" '  I  never,  madam,  dreamed  that  the  sweet  smile  that  I 
beheld  in  the  water  was  more  than  the  image  of  my  own 
teeming  fancy.  It  ever  brought  in  its  train  such  a  retinue  of 
absorbing  and  happy  thoughts  and  desires,  as  completely  to 
withdraw  my  mind  from  all  the  actual  about  me.' 

" '  I  am  sorry  then  that  I  have  broken  the  spell  and  released 
you  from  its  grateful  enchantment.  Yet,'  she  continued,  in  a 
more  serious  tone,  not  unmingled  with  a  feeling  of  thoughtful 
sadness,  as  she  glanced  at  the  threadbare  attire  and  the  anxious 
face  of  the  friendless  student,  '  I  do  you  a  good  service  in 
calling  you  back  to  earth.  It  is  not  well,  nor  wise,  for  you 
to  waste  your  hours  in  dreams,  still  idle  and  profitless,  bright 
and  winsome  as  they  may  be.  Your  fortunes  seem  yet  to  be 
made,  and  to  be  awaiting  none  but  your  own  strong  and  will 
ing  hands.  This  enchanted  land  is  not  the  place  for  you,  Sir 
Pilgrim.  You  should  be  in  the  busy,  acting  world.  Musing 
and  dreaming  are  in  fitting  measure  the  nurse  of  achievement ; 
in  excess,  they  only  kill.  Gather  strength  and  purpose  at  the 
fountain,  if  you  will ;  but  do  not,  too,  spend  it  there.' 

"As  the  lady  spoke,  our  hero's  surprise  at  the  unexpected 
seriousness  of  her  speech,  and  at  the  grave  character  of  her 
rebuke  and  counsel,  half  restrained  the  feelings  of  wounded 
pride  which  were  gathering  in  his  breast.  Still,  there  was  no 
little  haughtiness  in  his  voice  and  manner,  as  he  replied — 

"  '  You  misjudge  me,  madam.  I  do  not  spend  strength  and 
purpose  here.  Frederic  Marzan  is  not  of  the  vile  herd  who 
basely  sigh  for  what  they  dare  not  seize.  As  you  think,  my 
fortunes  are  yet  to  be  built,  and  by  my  own  unaided  strength. 
I  ask  no  mean  prize  in  the  world's  gift,  and  I  will  have  my 


THE  SMILE  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  29 

asking !     We  may  meet  again,  when  you  will  not  thus  unjustly 
rebuke  me.' 

"  '  I  do  not  doubt  it,'  said  the  young  girl,  looking  stead 
fastly  into  our  hero's  eyes,  sparkling  with  haughty  pride  and 
high  resolve. 

"  '  Forgive  my  grave  and  gratuitous  lecture,'  she  continued 
gaily,  and  kindly  extending  her  hand,  as  she  at  length  yielded 
to  the  impatience  of  her  cavalier  to  resume  their  walk. 

"  '  Thanks,  many  thanks,  for  your  gentle  kindness  and  for 
your  counsel.  It  is  not  gratuitous — not  vain.  It  gives  me  an 
incentive  to  effort  which  will  conquer  though  all  others  fail,' 
said  Frederic  earnestly,  as  his  burning  lips  touched  her  proffered 
hand. 

" '  Grone,'  mournfully  soliloquized  the  youth,  turning  his  eyes 
from  the  retreating  figure  he  had  been  watching  until  lost  to 
his  sight.  '  Gone  forever  the  Smile'  of  the  Fountain !  She  will 
not  come  back  again ;  and  if  she  should,  what  is  that  to  me  ? 
I  may  not  look  into  the  actual  face,  and  draw  from  it  glad 
imaginings,  as  I  have  done  from  the  vanished  image ;'  and  his 
brow  darkened  as  he  gloomily  reviewed  his  own  life  and  pros 
pects,  and  thought  of  the  great  social  gulf  which  he  doubted 
not  stretched  between  the  stranger  lady  and  himself.  '  But,' 
he  resumed,  after  a  pause,  and  as  a  new  courage  seemed  to 
cheer  his  soul,  '  a  truce  to  all  vain  sighs  and  sickly  dreams, 
and  let  us  see  if  will  and  work  cannot  bring  back  the  Smile 
of  the  Fountain !' 

"  From  this  hour,  the  whole  character  of  Frederic  Marzan 
was  changed,  or  developed,  rather.  He  was  a  youth  no  longer; 
but  a  man,  with  man's  graver  and  deeper  views  of  life,  and 
with  man's  higher  and  firmer  wish  and  will.  He  still  often 
visited  the  fountain,  and  looked  earnestly  into  its  waters,  but 
the  old  smile  never  again  greeted  his  sight.  Many  forms  stood 
around  him,  but  in  none  did  he  discover  the  one  he  sought. 


30  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAS    LANDSCAPE. 

Now  and  then  his  heart  would  beat  more  quickly,  as  light 
figures  glided  past  him,  and  with  inward  trepidation  he  would 
seek  to  look  beneath  the  veils  which  buried  unanswering  faces. 

"  Despite  his  stern  resolutions,  which  were  for  the  most  time 
invincible,  oppressive  memories  of  faded  hopes  would  spring 
up,  and,  swelling  into  irresistible  torrents,  would  in  a  moment 
tear  away  the  strong  pillars  of  the  iron  bridge  which  he  had, 
with  so  great  effort,  sprung  over  the  gulf  of  all  sad  bygones. 
Still,  in  every  changeful  mood,  the  fountain  was  his  sure  recourse 
— his  hope  or  his  consolation.  He  felt  the  subtile,  healthy  influ 
ence  of  its  smile  always  around  him.  It  seemed  to  bless  his 
life. 

"  From  the  day  of  his  rencontre  with  his  unknown  adviser 
his  horoscope  brightened.  Pictures  which  had  lingered  in  the 
shops  were  bought,  and  others  found  purchasers  as  fast  as  his 
pencil  could  execute  them.  '  His  name  began  to  be  heard  and 
honoured  in  the  world.  He  made  rapid  strides  in  his  profes 
sional  career.  His  fortunes  brightened  day  by  day ;  success 
followed  success ;  eager  patrons  surrounded  him ;  and  the  fame 
which  once  seemed  to  him  at  such  unattainable  distance,  now 
came  unsought  and  almost  unwelcomed.  His  studio  was  the 
favourite  resort  of  the  beauty  and  fashion  of  the  town.  Many 
gay  belles  asked  the  immortality  of  his  pencil  ;  many  flattering 
smiles  were  lavished  upon  him ;  but  none  whose  light  outshone 
the  never-forgotten  radiance  of  the  Smile  of  the  Fountain. 

"  He  mingled  freely  and  incessantly  in  the  social  pleasures 
to  which  he  was  invited,  and  yet  with  an  insouciance  not  quite 
suited  to  his  brilliant  prospects  and  early  years. 

"'You  seem  marvellously  indifferent,  Marzan,'  said  a  fashion 
able  lounger  to  him  one  day,  while  filling  the  sitter's  chair, 
'  to  the  smiles  of  our  fair  belles.  Do  none  of  the  arrows  reach 
your  heart,  or  are  you  impervious  ?  But  then  you  have  such 
incomprehensible  notions  about  women.  Now  there's  that  odd, 


THE  SMILE  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  31 

haughty,  but  ruinously  handsome  and  fearfully  clever  little  witch, 
Edith  Manners  —  I  beg  pardon  of  her  stateliness — Miss  Edith 
Manners.  If  you  can  withstand  her  charms,  I  give  you  up  as 
hopeless.  By  the  way,  how  is  it  that  you  have  never  painted 
her  portrait?  Why,  my  dear  boy,  you  might  paint  our  peer 
less  though  perverse  Edith,  and  then  contentedly  die.  Why, 
'pon  my  word,  you  are  a  Goth  not  to  have  done  it  long  ago 
— the  picture,  I  mean — not  the  dying.' 

"  '  I  have  not  the  honour  of  Miss  Manners'  acquaintance,' 
said  the  artist,  coldly. 

"  '  Not  the  honour  of  her  acquaintance !'  resumed  the  visitor. 
'  Why,  really,  per  bacco !  you  astound  me !  There  is  still  a 
hope  for  you,  when  you  do  know  her,  as  you  soon  shall. 
I'll  manage  the  thing  for  you.  Nothing  is ' 

"  '  Pray  do  not  trouble  yourself  on  my  account.' 

"  '  O,  my  dear  friend,  no  trouble,  I  assure  you :  au  contraire, 
i  pleasure.  Why,  she  is  just  the  woman  to  suit  you ;  and  I 
am  positive — no  compliment — that  she  will  fancy  you.  Queer 
creature !  I  don't  exactly  understand  her ;  she  has  so  many  odd 
ways — does  and  says  so  many  strange  things !  Why,  would 
you  believe  it,  at  Mrs.  Dashaway's,  once,  I  joined  a  set  of 
writing  people,  with  whom  she  was  talking  about  the  character 
istics  of  great  men — Washington  saving  his  country,  and  all 
that  ;  and  when  I  said  I  hoped  yet  to  have  the  honour  of 
preserving  my  county,  she  said  it  was  very  possible,  as  Eome 
was  saved  by  a  goose !  Then  everybody  laughed,  and  I  really 
should  have  thought  the  impertinent  little  wretch  was  quizzing 
me,  if  she  had  not  explained  that  she  meant  to  say  that,  if 
a  goose  could  save  a  capital  like  Rome,  what  might  not  /  do  ? 
Shockingly  complimentary  in  her,  wasn't  it  ?  Well,  well,  she  does 
obliging  things  sometimes,  though  more  often  over  the  left  than 

O         O  O  '  <— ) 

the  right.  When  she  goes  to  the  opera,  she  sits  in  a  private 
box,  where  no  one  can  see  her.  She  says  she  goes  to  hear 


32  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

the  music,  not  to  see  a  puppet  show !  It  must  be  a  great 
bore.  Queer  creature !  Why  she'll  turn  her  back  upon  any 
of  our  set — capital  fellows  they  are,  too — at  any  time,  to  talk 
to  some  old  fogy  of  a  D.  D.,  or  to  some  seedy  poet,  or  to  some 
poor  devil  of  a  painter — no  offence — nothing  personal ;  you  don't 
belong  to  that  sort,  you  know ;  you're  one  of  us,  though  I 
must  say  you  are  not  very  sociable — indeed,  I  may  say  (excuse 
me),  a  little  stiff.' 

"  '  Shut  your  mouth,  if  you  please.' 

"'Aye?' 

"  '  I  am  painting  the  lips.' 

"  '  O,  ah,  yes !  very  good,  very ;  he,  he,  capital,  'pon  honour ! 
I  must  tell  that  to  our  fellows — he,  he !' 

"  Soon  after  this  colloquy,  or  monologue,  rather,  the  artist 
dismissed  his  sitter,  and  his  thoughts  lingered  about  the  much 
discussed  Edith.  To  tell  the  truth,  he  was  not  a  little  piqued 
that  the  most  famous  and  spirituelle  beauty  of  the  city  had 
never  come  to  his  studio,  never  invited  his  acquaintance,  never 
even  sought  to  meet  him  at  any  of  the  many  reunions  among 
their  mutual  friends :  or  even  at  the  soirees  given  expressly 
in  his  honour,  and  by  her  own  circle. 

"  '  It  is,'  said  Marzan,  to  himself,  '  un  parti  pris.  She  is  too 
.proud  to  follow  the  popular  current,  and  she  evidently  avoids 
me  simply  because  I  am  courted  by  all  others.  Really,  I  am 
curious  to  see  this  fabled  Edith  Manners.' 

"His  eye  at  this  moment  rested  upon  a  large  canvass,  which 
had  long  occupied  such  leisure  hours  as  he  could  snatch  from 
the  toils  of  his  manifold  engagements.  Gazing  upon  the  picture, 
as  he  turned  its  face  from  the  wall,  an  expression  of  sadness 
softened  his  look,  and  his  thoughts  flew  far  away  from  Edith 
Manners. 

"  '  She  must  be  a  paragon,  indeed,  he  mused,  '  if  she  can 
make  me  forget  my  little  unknown  patroness !  Shall  I  never 


THE   SMILE   OF  THE   FOUNTAIN.  33 

see  her  again?  Will  the  fountain  never  more  wear  its  old 
sweet  smile?' 

"  The  picture  upon  which  he  gazed  was  nothing  less  than 
a  faithful  memory  of  the  scene  at  the  fountain — the  interview 
between  Marzan  and  the  young  girl,  which  we  have  narrated 
at  the  beginning  of  our  story.  In  every  respect,  it  was  a  glot- 
rious  production.  Indeed,  it  was  the  artist's  chef-d? ceuvre,  as  the 
public  enthusiastically  pronounced  it  when  it  soon  after  enriched 
the  Annual  Exhibition  of  the  National  Academy. 

"  '  Strange !'  whispered  the  curious  public,  when  it  was  told 
that  the  painter  kept  the  work  himself,  refusing  for  it  almost 
fabulous  prices. 

"  Mr.  Manners,  who  in  the  meanwhile  had  made  the  artist's 
acquaintance,  sought  by  every  means  to  possess  himself  of  the 
picture,  without  avail. 

" '  Surely,'  said  the  young  misses  and  the  old  gossips,  '  it 
must  have  a  history !  Marzan  is  as  romantic  as  he  is  proud 
and  reserved,  and  has,  no  doubt,  had  more  adventures  than  it 
pleases  him  to  relate.' 

"  '  Have  you  never  observed,'  said  Clara  B ,  '  how  much 

the  lad  resembles  Marzan  himself?' 

"'And,  surely,  I  have  seen  the  girl  somewhere.  Who  can 
she  be  ?  Dear  me,  how  provoking !'  rejoined  Julia  Gr . 

"  Marzan's  motive  in  exposing  his  picture  of  the  Smile  of 
the  Fountain  is  of  course  apparent  enough ;  but  it  failed  in 
its  intent,  giving  him  no  clue  whatever  to  the  solution  of  the 
riddle  of  his  life.  The  Exhibition  closed,  the  picture  came  back, 
and  months  yet  flew  by,  while  no  trace  could  be  found  of 
the  stranger-lady. 

"  Marzan's  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Manners  was  followed  by 

repeated  invitations  to  his  house,  which  our  hero,  however,  from 

some  cause,  uniformly  declined :  though  at  length  mere  courtesy 

forbade  the  right  to  deny  the  urgent  and  personal  solicitations 

3 


34  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

of  the  gentleman.  '  The  party  is  to  be  a  masque,'  said  Mr. 
Manners.  'It  is  a  fancy  of  my  wilful  child ;  and,  to  tell  the 
truth,  she  is  particularly  desirous  of  your  company.  You  must 
not  refuse  us.' 

"  The  hour  for  the  much  talked  of  entertainment  arrived, 
and  Marzan  set  forth,  though  reluctantly,  to  keep  his  engage 
ment.  If  he  felt  any  interest  in  the  affair  at  all,  it  was  in 
the  promise  it  gave  him  of  meeting  one  of  whose  graces  and 
gifts  he  had  heard  so  much.  Still,  this  interest  was  not  so 
marked  as  to  bring  the  slightest  feeling  of  vexation,  when  he 
learned  that  Edith  was  too  indisposed  to  receive  her  guests. 

"  The  evening  wore  on,  with  brilliant  success.  Frederic 
found  no  want  of  occupation.  He  was  an  especial  favourite 
with  everybody,  young  and  old — with  the  gay  and  thoughtless, 
for  his  graces  and  wit,  and  with  the  grave  and  wise,  for  his 
sterling  worth  and  wisdom.  Many  a  fair  masque  greeted  him, 
and  sometimes  he  would  be  challenged  by  a  whole  bevy  of 
madcaps.  He  played  his  part  well,  yet  scarcely  with  the-e'clat 
which  his  reputation  promised.  In  truth,  his  interest  was  con 
centrated  upon  a  fair  form,  simply  clad,  gliding  hither  and 
thither,  and  winning  but  passing  notice  from  any. 

" '  Who  is  yonder  solitary  lady  ?'  he  vainly  asked  of  all 
he  met. 

"  After  a  while,  stealing  away  from  the  gay  groups,  he 
found  himself,  to  his  great  relief,  in  a  little  boudoir  at  the 
end  of  the  rich  suite  of  drawing  rooms.  Much  to  his  surprise, 
he  saw  among  the  decorations  of  the  walls  of  this  fairy 
bower,  several  of  his  own  early  pictures,  which  had  been  pur 
chased  in  his  humbler  days  by  an  unknown  patron.  He  was 
gazing  at  these  surprises — a  thousand  novel  thoughts  and  fancies 
crowding  his  perplexed  brain — when  a  hand  was  laid  softly 
upon  his  arm,  and,  turning  quickly,  he  beheld  the  figure  of 
the  humble  masque. 


THE  SMILE  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  35 

" '  Are  you  a  lover  of  art  ?'  she  asked,  pointing  to  the 
pictures. 

"  '  As  a  child  loves  its  mother  !  Is  it  not  the  sunshine 
and  soul  of  my  life  ?' 

"  '  Ah,  you  are  a  painter  then,  sir !  How  do  you  like  my 
friend  Edith's  gallery?' 

"Frederic  shrugged  his  shoulders,  with  an  unaccountable 
want  of  complaisance;  but  it  seemed  not  rude  to  the  lady, 
for  she  laughed  gaily. 

"  '  Upon  my  word,  you  are  no  courtier,'  said  she.  '  Cer 
tainly,  your  ungracious  verdict  cannot  grow  out  of  professional 
jealousy.  Come,  be  honest,  and  confess  that  he  gives  promise 
— rare  promise.' 

"  '  Certainly,'  returned  Marzan,  abstractedly. 

"  '  Which  he  has  nobly  honoured,'  continued  the  lady,  '  in 
his  famous  picture  of  the  Smile  of  the  Fountain,  for  the  works 
you  see  before  you  are  from  the  easel  of  no  humbler  artist 
than  Frederic  Marzan.' 

"  '  Do  you  know,'  she  continued,  seeing  that  her  auditor 
was  little  disposed  to  reply,  '  why  the  artist  so  cherishes  that 
picture  of  the  Fountain?' 

"  '  Indeed,  fair  lady,  how  should  I  ?'  answered  Marzan,  con 
descending  at  last  to  speak.  '  Some  caprice,  perhaps,  or ' 

"  '  Or,  perhaps,  it  may  be  the  loving  record  of  some  story 
of  his  hidden  life.  You  painters  and  poets,  I  know,  sometimes, 
shrinking  from  fuller  expression,  indulge  in  the  relief  of  such 
vague  confidences.  The  artist,  I  am  told,  has  traced  his  own 
features  in  the  face  of  the  hero ;  and  they  say,  that  his  earlier 
life  knew  the  poverty  and  struggle  expressed  in  the  character. 
The  heroine,  too — if,  as  I  doubt  not,  her  portrait  be  drawn 
from  nature — -still  remembers,  if  she  ever  felt,  the  Smile  of 
the  Fountain.' 

"  '  No,  no !'  interrupted   Marzan,  sadly,  '  if  such   a  memory 


36         THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

ever  interested  her  heart,  it  must  have  been  forgotten  long  ago. 
Women  are  too  changeable  to  love  so  unselfishly  or  so  con 
stantly.' 

" '  Fie !  ungallant  masque !  Did  I  know  the  artist,  and 
know,  too,  the  secret  of  his  picture  to  be  such  as  my  romance 
has  fashioned  it,  I  would  tell  him  that  that  fair  face,  his  memory 
has  recalled,  is  the  index  of  a  soul  earnest  and  devoted  as  his 
own.  There  are  women,  sir,  who  can  love  from  pure  and  truth 
ful  impulses — love,  entirely  and  forever,  from  impulses  at  vari 
ance  with  every  lesson  of  selfishness.  But  men — are  they  capable 
of  such  noble  disinterestedness  ?  Your  artist  here,  alas !  has  most 
likely  forgotten,  long  ago,  the  Smile  of  the  Fountain  in  the 
more  brilliant  smiles  of  flattery  and  fame.  It  lives  now  in  his 
brain,  and  not  in  his  heart.  He  remembers  it  as  a  graceful, 
theme  for  the  display  of  his  genius.' 

"  '  Madam  !'  gasped  Marzan,  impetuously,  and  as  if  utterly 
forgetful  of  all  but  one  thought,  '  do  not  desecrate  the  most 
holy  memories  by  such  light  words.  Spare  me,  I  pray  you ; 
I  am  that  Frederic  Marzan,  and  I  loved  the  lady  of  the 
Fountain.' 

"  '  And  you  still  love  her  ?'  asked  the  stranger,  in  a  low, 
tremulous  voice. 

"  '  Now  and  ever  !  "Would  that  I  could  find  her  !  And 
yet,  it  were  better  that  I  should  not.  Now,  she  is  to  me  a 
thought  of  beauty :  to  meet  her  again  would  be  only  to  kill 
that  sweet  memory ;  to  meet  her,  and  find  in  her  eye  and 
heart  no  reflection  of  my  own  mad  love.' 

"  '  Folly,  sir !  Seek  her,  and  you  will  find  a  reality  more 
beautiful  than  your  abstraction.  Believe  me,  that  if  she  ever 
loved  you,  she ' 

"  '  And  why  do  you  speak  so  confidently  ?  who  are  you  ?' 
asked  Marzan,  seeking  to  read  the  features  of  the  lady  through 
her  masque.  '  I  am  mad,  no  doubt ;  but  your  earnest  voice 


THE   SMILE   OF   THE  FOUNTAIN.  37 

— your  merry  laugh — I  have  heard  both  before  !  Heard  them 
in  my  dreams — am  I  dreaming  now  ?  are  you ' 

"  '  An  humble  girl,  not  worth  your  better  knowing.  My 
face  does  not  wear  your  lost  smile.' 

"  '  Still,  let  me  see  it !     I  must  see  your  face.' 

"  '  If  you  so  much  desire  it,'  the  lady  whispered,  as  she 
removed  her  masque. 

"  '  I  knew,  I  knew  it  must  be  so !'  he  cried,  gathering  the 
light  form  of  the  now  laughing  girl  in  his  passionate  embrace. 
c  My  long-sought  treasure !  Mine  again,  and  always — however 
poor  and  unfriended — however ' 

"  '  Edith !  my  daughter !'  exclaimed  the  astonished  Mr.  Man 
ners,  entering  the  little  room  at  this  surprising  juncture. 

" '  Edith  Manners  ?'  repeated  the  scarcely  less  bewildered 
artist. 

"  '  Edith  Manners !'  merrily  echoed  the  beautiful  girl,  and 
giving  him  the  hand  which  he  had  dropped  — '  Edith  Manners, 
the  Smile  of  the  Fountain!'" 

Mr.  Flakewhite  here  ended  his  romance,  amidst  the  thanks 
and  congratulations  of  his  audience. 

"  Rather  highfaluted,"  suggested  Mr.  Megilp.  "  Flakewhite 
must  feel  relieved,  with  such  a  weight  off  his  mind." 

"A  little  agonizing,  I  admit,"  remarked  the  worthy  chair 
man  ;  "  yet  I  shall  always  look  upon  the  old  fountain  hereafter 
with  a  new  and  loving  interest,  even  though  the  association 
be  but  imaginary." 

"  And  besides,"  added  Mr.  Yermeille,  "  our  book  must  have 
thought  and  fancy  of  every  shade :  which  it  will  not  lack, 
if  we  each  express  ourselves  in  our  stories  as  Flakewhite  has 
done.  It  is  not  likely  that  any  two  of  us  will  think  or  feel 
in  the  same  vein.  Brownoker,  for  instance,  would  have  painted 
ihe  fountain  in  a  very  different  tone." 


447972. 


38  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

"  Apropos,"  said  the  gentleman  just  alluded  to,  "  I  must 
tell  you — yes,  I  know  that  it  is  getting  late,  but  I  will  detain 
you  only  a  few  minutes  (this  was  addressed  to  Mr.  Deepredde, 
as  he  took  out  his  watch,  with  a  deprecatory  look  at  the 
speaker) — a  little  reminiscence  of  our  theme,  not  quite  so  in 
tense  as  Flakewhite's,  but  equally  true. 

"  Passing  through  the  Park  one  quiet  moonlight  night,  (will 
that  do  for  a  beginning  ?)  I  saw  a  citizen — whether  Mr.  Frederic 
Marzan,  or  not,  I  cannot  say — gazing  fixedly  into  the  fountain, 
with  a  face  and  general  expression  of  hopeless  desolation  which 
reasonably  enough  might  have  brought  to  mind  the  figure  of 
Marius  in  the  dumps  at  ruined  Carthage.  He  had  climbed 
over  the  railing,  and  was  perched  upon  the  very  brink  of  the 
great  basin.  A  few  bubbles  only  fell  from  the  jet  to  disturb 
the  water,  leaving  the  reflections  of  all  the  surroundings 
unbroken. 

"  '  Good  gracious !'  soliloquized  the  watcher,  curiously  peer 
ing  into  the  flood,  '  who  the  deuce  has — ger-got  into  the  fer- 
fountain  ?  I  say,  you  there,  ster-stranger,  wer-what  are  you 
ber-ber — about,  in  there?  That's  a  de-damp  place,  my  fer-friend  ! 
you'll  catch  ker-cold,  I  am  afraid.  I  ker-can't  hear  wh-what 
he  says,  but  I  see  his  lips  me-move.  Wh-what  an  ugly  ker- 
customer  he  is !  Wh-what  a  sh-shocking  te-tile !  He  must  be 
de-drunk — drunk ! 

"  '  I  say  there — who's  ger-got  into  the  fer-fountain  ?  Does 
yer  m-mother  know  you're  ou-out? — I  m-mean  does  she  know 
yu-you're  in  ?  You  mustn't  st-stay  down  there,  old  ch-chap ! 
Here,  I'll  Mend  you  a  h-hand.  It  sha'n't  be  ser-said  that  I 
d-didn't  help  a  f-fellow  creature  in  der-distress !  Steady,  now, 
st-stranger,' — bending  forward,  and  reaching  down  his  arm  to 
aid  his  submerged  companion, — 'st-steady,  or  you'll  be  up-s-set. 
Why  d-don't  you  take  hold  ?  Now  !  Aye  ? — c-can't  reach  ? 
you're  a  der-darned  fool ! 


THE   MAN  IN  THE   FOUNTAIN.  39 

" '  Decidedly  lie's  d-drank !'  soliloquized  the  watcher,  as  he 
rested  a  moment  from  his  office  as  a  member  of  the  Humane 
Society — '  d-drunk  as  the  d — 1 ;  but — I'll  h-help  him  !  Per- 
perhaps  he's  a  first-rate  f-fellow — he  in-must  be — he  looks  a 
good  d-deal  like  m-me,  when  I'm  excited.  Here,  old  b-boy, 
take  my  h-hand !' 

"  Here  Marius,  reaching  over  a  little  too  far,  fell  forward, 
and  had  I  not  caught  him  by  the  tail  of  his  swiftly  vanishing 
coat,  he  would  soon  have  found  out  who  had  'g-got  into  the 
f-fountain!' 

"  '  Thank  you,  my  f-friend,  you're  a— b-brick,'  he  said,  as  I  sat 
him  on  his  pins  again.  '  You're  another  s-sort,  you  are,  from 
that  infernal  s-scoundrel — d-down  there  in  the  f-fountain.  When 
I  lent  the  ugly  d-dog  a  hand,  to  h-help  him  out,  he  p-pulled 
me  in !  B-blame  me  if  I  ever  h-help  a  f-fellow  creature  in 
d-distress  again !' " 

A  general  laugh,  and  a  general  looking  for  hats,  followed 
Brownoker's  "Smile"  of  the  Fountain. 


CHAPTER   III. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  the  respected  chairman  to  the  guests 
gaily  chatting  around  our  blazing  fire  on  the  memorably  cold 
night  of  our  next  reunion,  "  if  you  are  comfortably  thawed, 
we  will  take  our  seats,  and,  giving  rein  to  the  steeds  of  Mem 
ory  and  Fancy,  prance  along  upon  our  journey." 

"  And  where,  pray,  are  we  to  go  to-night  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Brownoker,  stumbling,  as  he  turned  to  say  it,  upon  the  tender 
toes  of  Mr.  Blueblack. 

«  Go  to " 

"  Virginia,"  we  hastily  added,  by  way  of  improving  the 
unpleasant  itineraire  which  Blueblack  was  evidently  marking 
out  for  his  awkward  neighbour. 

"  A  pleasant  destination  enough,  and  sufficiently  warm  even 
for  this  wintry  night,"  returned  Brownoker.  "Always  count 
me  in,  where  the  Old  Dominion  is  concerned ;"  and  the  united 
lungs  of  the  company  merrily  helped  him  through  the  chorus 
of  "  Carry  me  back  to  old  Yirginny — to  old  Virginia's  shore  1" 

"  '  Old  Virginia's  shore  !'  "  musingly  echoed  Mr.  Deepredde, 
when  the  impromptu  burst  of  melody  had  subsided — "  a  noble 
theme,  regarded  in  any  and  every  light ;  whether  we  consider 


42  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

the  adventurous  incidents  of  her  early  history,  the  bravery  and 
gallantry  of  her  people,  and  their  signal  services  to  our  coun 
try  in  every  phase  and  period  of  its  life  ;  or  whether  we 
explore  its  rich  and  varied  stores  of  natural  beauties  and 
wonders." 

"In  the  abundance  and  quality  of  her  poetical  and  romantic 
reminiscence  and  suggestion,"  said  Mr.  Yermeille,  "  Virginia  is 
unquestionably  the  laureate  of  our  sisterhood  of  nations.  She 
was  born  of  the  most  gallant  and  creative  spirit,  and  in  the 
most  daring  and  chivalrous  age  which  the  world  has  ever  known 
— the  memorable  and  mighty  days  of  Elizabeth — herself,  if  you 
will,  only  the  hard,  ungiving  flint,  yet  magically  striking  the 
light  of  thought  and  action  from  all  the  dormant  genius  and 
power  which  came  within  the  range  of  her  influence.  Our 
queenly  State  grew  up  a  worthy  daughter  of  her  great  parent 
age,  and  in  all  her  history  has  evinced,  as  she  still  perpetu 
ates,  its  noble  spirit.  Her  whole  story  is  replete  with  musings 
for  the  poet,  and  with  philosophy  for  the  historian.  "What  a 
web  of  romance  may  yet  be  woven  from  the  record  of  the 
dangers,  trials,  and  hair-breadth  'scapes  of  her  infant  life ;  from 
the  first  venture  of  the  restless  Ealeigh,  through  all  the  bold 
exploits  of  the  gallant  Smith,  the  troublesome  diplomacy  of 
the  wily  Opecacanough,  the  dangerous  jealousy  of  Powhattan, 
the  plots  of  the  traitorous  Bacon,  to  the  thrilling  drama  of 
the  gentle  Indian  princess.  And  again,  in  older  days — in  the 
days  of  border  strife,  of  bold  struggle  with  the  united  strategy 
and  cruelty  of  the  French  intruder  and  the  vengeful  red-skin 
— she  gives  us  chronicles  which,  while  scarcely  yielding  in 
dramatic  interest  to  the  incidents  of  earlier  periods,  rise  higher 
in  the  force  of  moral  teachings ;  while  yet  again,  onward  and 
later,  there  opens  to  us  the  still  more  thrilling  and  more  lofty 
story  of  her  mature  life,  in  the  proud  deeds  and  grand  results 
of  her  participation  in  our  eventful  Revolution.  The  be-all 


THE   TRAVELLERS  IN   VIRGINIA.  43 

and  the  end-all  of  that  achievement  it  is  not  our  place  now 
to  ask.  Much  as  the  world  has  seen,  and  much  more  as  it 
hopes,  of  mighty  consequence,  the  stupendous  effect  is  not  yet 
felt,  not  yet  dreamed  of,  perhaps ;  but  for  what  has  come,  and 
for  what  will  come,  to  Virginia  belongs  much  of  the  glory — 
the  glory  of  striking  the  first  blow,  by  uniting  the  colonies 
in  resistance  to  foreign  border  encroachment ;  while  the  last 
blow,  thirty  long  struggling  years  beyond,  fell  also  from,  her 
gauntletted  hand,  when  the  conquered  Cornwallis  laid  down  his 
shamed  sword  on  the  plains  of  Yorktown.  Virginia  then  led 
the  sounding  shout  of  freedom  and  empire  which  has  danced  in 
glad  echoes  over  the  Alleghanies,  skimmed  the  vast  valleys  of 
the  Mississippi  and  the  prairies  of  the,  great  "West,  crossed  the 
snow-clad  peaks  of  the  Eocky  Mountains,  and  kissed  the  far- 
off  floods  of  the  Pacific — a  shout  which  now,  more  than  ever, 
fills  the  rejoicing  air,  and  which  must  grow  in  grandeur  and 
melody  until  it  shall  exalt  and  bless  the  heart  of  all  the 
earth." 

"It  was  all  a  mistake,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Brownoker,  grasp 
ing  the  hand  of  the  exhausted  Vermeille,  "  all  an  inexcusable 
mistake,  that  you  were  not  yourself  born  in  the  shadow  of 
the  Blue  Eidge !  You  should  have  lineally  descended  from 
that  pretty  brunette,  Pocahontas,  and  have  figured  in  the  family 
bible  of  the  first  of  the  first  families !  Here !  light  this  pipe 
of  Eappahannoc,  and  give  yet  another  puff  to  the  fair  god 
daughter  of  the  virgin  queen,  and  to  the  blessed  memory  of 
Sir  Walter,  for  the  inestimable  gift  of  the  fragrant  weed. 
Truly  you  have  said  that  the  deeds  of  the  '  Old  Dominion' 
supply  volumes  of  romance  and  philosophy ;"  and  the  grave 
Brownoker  dropped  into  a  brown  study,  and  seemed  to  be 
rising  to  the  height  of  the  highest  argument  in  each  field,  fact 
and  fiction,  with  the  dense  clouds  of  smoke  which  he  sent 
curling  above  his  head. 


44  THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

Yermeille's  first  impulse,  upon  this  irreverent  response  to 
his  eloquence,  was  to  extinguish  the  offender  with  the  "  rosy" 
at  his  elbow,  as  the  good  knight  was  "  put  out"  by  his  fright 
ened  servant,  when  all  a-fire  with  the  soul  of  old  Virginia. 
But  he  thought  better  of  it,  and  quietly  added  to  his  eulogy 
the  suggested  puff. 

"I  forgive  your  gross  raillery,"  said  he,  "knowing,  as  I 
do,  that  beneath  your  seeming  earthiness  there  yet  lives  the 
true  spirit  of  poetry." 

"Else,  my  dear  Vermeille,  should  I  not,  like  yourself,  and 
all  of  us  here,  spend  my  life  in  pursuit  of  the  true  and  beau 
tiful  in  Nature  and  life.  We  are  brothers  in  feeling,  believe 
me,  though  our  thoughts  do  not  patronize  the  same  tailor 
Forgive  my  interruption,  and  let  us  proceed.  Who  speaks 
next  ?  '  Old  Virginny  never  tire,'  as  the  poet  has  it." 

"  Among  the  proudest  boasts  that  Virginia  may  make,"  said 
Mr.  Flakewhite,  picking  up  the  lost  thread  of  the  discourse, 
"  is  the  extraordinary  number  of  great  men  which  she  has 
given  to  the  nation.  During  half  the  life-time  of  the  Republic, 
its  highest  office  has  been  conferred  upon  her  sons,  who  have, 
in  turn,  nobly  reflected  back  upon  the  country  the  honour 
they  have  received.  Not  only  has  she  been  mother  of  many 
and  the  greatest  of  our  Presidents,  but  she  has  reared  leaders 
for  our  armies  and  navies,  law-givers  for  our  senates,  judges 
for  our  tribunals,  apostles  for  our  pulpits,  poets  for  our'  closets, 
and  painters  and  sculptors  for  our  purest  instruction  and  our 
highest  and  most  enduring  delight.  Scanning  the  map  of  mid 
dle  Virginia,  the  eye  is  continually  arrested  by  hallowed  shrines, 
the  birth-places,  the  homes,  and  the  graves  of  those  whom  the 
world  has  most  delighted  to  honour.  Here  we  pause  within 
the  classic  groves  of  Monticello,  and  look  abroad  upon  the 
scenes  amidst  which  Jefferson  so  profoundly  studied  and  taught 
the  world.  There,  in  the  little  village  of  Hanover,  the  burning 


GREAT  MEN   OF  VIRGINIA.  45 

words  of  Patrick  Henry  first  awakened  the  glowing  fire  of 
liberty  in  the  bosoms  of  his  countrymen ;  and  here,  too,  the 
great  Clay  was  nurtured  in  that  lofty  spirit  of  patriotism  from 
which  sprung  his  high  and  devoted  public  service.  Not  far 
off,  we  may  bend  again,  reverently,  over  the  ashes  of  Madison 
and  Munroe,  of  Lee  and  Wirt,  and  of  a  host  of  others  whom 
but  to  mention  w®uld  be  a  fatiguing  task. 

"  Yet  there  remains  unspoken,  though  not  forgetfully,  one 
other  name — the  first  and  greatest,  not  of  Virginia  only,  not  .of 
this  wide  Eepublic  alone,  but  of  the  world  itself;  a  name 
which  may  well  and  without  other  laurel  glorify  the  brow  of 
a  nation  —  the  immortal  name  of  "Washington!  It  is  among 
the  regrets  of  my  life  that,  when  in  Virginia,  circumstances 
denied  me  the  coveted  pleasure  of  visiting  the  sacred  spot 
which  gave  birth  to  the  noblest  of  our  race.  Some  one  of 
our  number  has,  I  hope,  been  more  blest  than  I ;  and  to  him 
I  will  now  give  place." 

"  It  is  several  years  ago,"  said  Mr.  Blueblack,  after  a  pause, 
"  that  I  made  a  pilgrimage  into  the  pleasant  fields  of  West 
moreland,  and,  upon  the  sunny  banks  of  the  Potomac,  mused 
over  the  birth-place  of  Washington.  The  landscape,  in  its 
broad  and  simple,  yet  picturesque  and  genial  character — in  its 
spirit  of  solemn,  yet  happy  quiet — induced  reflection  admirably 
harmonious  with  the  temper  of  him  whose  life  and  deeds  have 
cast  over  it  an  universal  and  unfading  attraction  and  beauty. 
I  need  not  say  that  the  hours  flew  swiftly,  as  I  recalled  all 
the  absorbing  pages  of  that  great  history,  of  which  the  spot 
was  the  winning  initial  letter.  Yet,  with  my  pleasure,  were 
mingled  some  regretful  thoughts :  meditations  upon  our  want 
of  that  feeling  of  veneration  and  reverence  by  which  the  mem 
ory  of  the  past  is  kept  green  and  its  examples  and  teachings 
preserved.  The  destruction  of  the  religious  and  poetic  element 
under  the  crushing  weight  of  the  rubbish  of  that  gross  mate- 


46  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

rialism  which  we  dignify  with  the  names  of  practicality  and 
action; — this  unlovely  phase  of  our  national  character  was  here 
strikingly  evident,  in  the  utter  neglect  of  this  the  most  hallowed 
spot  in  our  land — a  spot  which  should  be  adorned  by  the  best 
efforts  of  our  liberality  and  our  art,  and  which  should  be  a 
Mecca  to  our  feet.  And  yet,  of  all  our  millions  of  people, 
rarely  does  a  solitary  pilgrim  seek  this  holy  ground ;  and  not 
the  poorest  votive  offering,  not  the  simplest  monument,  marks 
the  spot  to  recall  to  ourselves,  or  to  our  children,  its  beauti 
fully  suggestive  story." 

"  Do  we  need  such  symbols  ?"  asked  Mr.  Brownoker,  "  in 
this  rational  age,  which  very  properly  values  and  remembers 
action  by  its  results  only  ?  Feeling  as  we  do,  everywhere 
around  us,  the  influences  of  great  virtues  and  great  genius, 
what  matters  it  to  us  from  whom  or  from  where  we  have 
received  them.  In  the  dark  and  ignorant  days  of  the  past, 
monuments  and  statues  may  have  been  public  instructors ;  but 
we  learn  by  better  means.  Do  they  not  savour  of  that  spirit 
of  superstition  ever  akin  to  ignorance  and  weakness?" 

"It  is,"  resumed  Mr.  Blueblack,  "this  very  practical  tendency, 
with  its  disdain  for  forms,  which  you  commend,  that  makes  it 
of  the  greater  importance  to  cherish  these  outward  symbols  of 
the  inner  soul,  lest  with  the  one,  the  other  shall  cease  to  be 
remembered.  In  the  same  spirit,  you  would  doubtless  pull 
down  the  soaring  spires  which  direct  our  thoughts  to  heaven, 
cease  the  ceremonies  of  our  sacred  worship,  and  trust  the 
preservation  of  religious  and  moral  principle  to  the  pure  con 
science  of  each  man  alone.  But  that,  alas !  may  not  be.  The 
world  is  not  good  and  holy  enough  to  dispense  with  these 
monitors.  Virtuous  promptings  and  reproofs  are  still  of  use. 
If  there  be  weakness  confessed,  and  credulity  evinced,  in  a 
regard  for  the  forms  and  draperies  of  truth,  let  us  still 
acknowledge  that  we  are  not  gods,  rather  than,  in  losing  all 


MONUMENTS  AND  STATUES.  47 

sight  and  thought  of  virtue  and  beauty,  show  ourselves  to  be 
brutes.  Besides,  it  is  but  just  to  those  whose  lives  and  deeds 
have  blessed  us,  and  to  their  children  forever,  that  we  should 
acknowledge  and  reward  their  services.  It  is  but  wise  in , 
ourselves  to  use  the  incentive  to  virtuous  achievement,  which 
we  may  find  in  the  remembrance  and  hope  of  the  honours 
they  win." 

"  '  The  lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us  we  can  make  our 
lives  sublime,' "  suggested  Professor  Scumble.  "  Let  us,  in  every 
possible  way,  venerate  the  past,  lest  the  present  come,  in  turn, 
to  dishonour." 

"  Even  denying,"  said  Mr.  Flakewhite,  "  the  great  moral 
influence  and  need  of  such  outward  expression  of  our  hearts,  as 
we  can  make  in  the  employment  of  monuments  and  kindred 
objects,  they  are  still  of  inestimable  value  as  missionaries  of 
the  refining  and  spiritualizing  lessons  of  art :  priceless  even  as 
ministers  to  our  intellectual  delight ;  to  be  dearly  cherished  if 
only  for  the  innocent  gratification  which  they  bring  to  the 
senses." 

"  Permit  me  to  relate,"  said  Mr.  Deepredde,  "  while  I  think 
of  it,  a  little  anecdote  illustrating  the  relative  respect  of  our 
own  and  other  nations  for  hallowed  objects  and  scenes.  The 
incident  occurred  while  I  was  once  passing  down  the  Potomac. 
Nearing  Mount  Yernon,  the  passengers  were,  as  is  customary, 
informed  of  the  fact  by  the  ringing  of  the  bell,  and  soon  most 
of  them  were  gathered  on  the  side  of  the  boat.  While  our  own 
people  were  gazing  with  idle  curiosity  or  seeming  indifference, 
some  by  the  expression  of  their  faces  seeming  to  say,  as  they 
looked  upon  the  home  and  tomb  of  the  Father  of  his  Country, 
'  Well !  what  of  it  ?'  and  others,  by  their  looks,  evidently  think 
ing  the  whole  thing  but  a  shabby  sort  of  affair :  some  passen 
gers  in  the  group — French  gentlemen — gravely  removed  their 
fyats  and  stood  uncovered  as  the  boat  glided  by :  a  deserved 


48  THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

rebuke,  which  was  keenly  felt  by  every  conscious  scoffer  and 
careless  spectator." 

"By  the  way,"  added  the  chairman,  turning  to  us  as  he 
finished  his  story,  "is  it  intentionally,  that  you  have  led  us  to 
Virginia  on  this  especial  night  of  the  memorable  twenty-second 
of  February,  the  anniversary  of  the  chiefest  event  in  her 
history  ?" 

"  Our  sermon,"  we  returned,  now  for  the  first  time  producing 
our  picture  of  the  birth-place  of  Washington,  "  has  singularly 
enough  followed  its  unknown  text.  Our  choice  has  been  made 
not  accidentally,  but  with  reference  to  the  occasion,  and  with  the 
thought  that  it  would  well  follow  the  ceremonies  and  reflections 
of  the  day." 

"  An  admirable  chronicle  of  the  spot,"  said  Mr.  Blueblack, 
as,  with  all  the  company,  he  bent  over  Mr.  Chapman's  graphic 
drawing. 

"Let  us  thank  Chapman,"  said  Mr.  Vermeille,  "for  his 
monument  to  the  birth-place  of  Washington.  It  is  not  very 
pretending,  but  yet  it  will,  with  its  still  small  voice,  speak 
pleasantly  and  usefully  to  many  hearts." 

"  In  parenthesis,"  said  Brownoker.  "  Chapman  is  himself 
a  Virginian.  He  has  given  us  a  worthy  token  of  his  home 
love,  in  the  picture  of  the  baptism  of  Pocahontas,  in  the  Eo- 
tunda  of  the  Capitol.  I  could  have  wished  that  he  had  taken 
the  more  dramatic  story  of  the  rescue  of  Smith — an  event  of 
national  interest,  upon  which  turned  the  destiny  of  the  State; 
while  the  baptism,  however  pleasing  an  incident,  might  or 
might  not  have  occurred,  and  either  way  with  no  particular 
sequence." 

"Apropos,  of  our  picture,"  said  another  speaker.  "Is  it  not 
strange  that  while  Virginia  is  no  less  singularly  interesting  in 
her  physical  than  in  her  moral  aspect,  she  has  won  so  little  of 
the  attention  of  our  landscapists  ?  Despite  the  extent  and 


THE    LANDSCAPE    OF   VIRGINIA.  49 

variety  of  her  scenery,  from  the  alluvial  plains  of  the  eastern 
division,  through  the  picturesque  hills  and  dales  of  the  middle 
region,  onward  to  the  noble  summits  of  the  Blue  Eidge,  with 
their  intervening  valleys  and  mountain  streams  and  waterfalls, 
the  white-cotton  umbrella  of  the  artist  has  scarcely  ever  been 
seen  to  temper  its  sunshine,  except  in  a  few  instances  of  par 
ticularly  notable  interest — as  the  Natural  Bridge,  and  the  grand 
views  near  Harper's  Ferry.  The  landscape  of  Virginia  is  every 
where  suggestive ;  and,  even  in  the  least  varied  regions,  con 
tinually  rises  to  the  beauty  of  a  fine  picture.  There  are  the 
rich  valleys  of  the  James  and  the  Roanoke  rivers,  said  in 
many  of  their  characteristics  to  resemble  the  beautiful  scenery 
of  the  Loire  and  the  Garonne ;  and  far  off,  among  the  hills,  are 
the  rushing  and  plunging  waters  of  the  great  Kanawha,  and  the 
beetling  cliffs  of  New  River.  Verily,  we  painters  have  too  much 
neglected  our  duties  and  privileges  in  this  case." 

"Too  much  'renounced  the  boundless  store  of  charms  which 
Nature  to  her  votary  yields,' "  echoed  Professor  Scumble. 

"The  brother  seems  to  forget,"  said  Mr.  Brownoker,  "that 
the  field  which  we  have  to  cultivate  is  of  vast  extent,  and  that 
numerous  and  gifted  as  are  our  landscape  painters,  they  have 
yet  scarcely  had  opportunity  to  look  about  them.  In  due  time 
the  forests  and  fields  of  Virginia,  as  of  all  the  land,  will  find 
fitting  record.  That  the  landscape  of  the  Northern  States 
should  first  win  the  study  of  our  artists,  is  natural  enough,  if 
but  from  the  more  ready  access  they  have  to  it — the  chief 
portion  of  them  being  gathered  in  this  great  centralizing  city 
of  New  York.  At  present,  the  scenery  of  Virginia  is  better 
known  to  the  general  traveller  than  to  the  artist;  which  per 
haps  comes  from  the  social  attractions  of  the  famous  watering 
places,  and  the  extraordinary  number  of  eccentricities  in  the 
landscape;  neither  of  which  are  greatly  sought  by  the  artist, 
much  and  properly  so,  as  they  may  charm  the  mere  pleasure- 
4 


50  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

seeking  tourist.  Every  body  goes  to  that  wonderful  place,  the 
Natural,  or,  as  in  its  massive  grandeur  and  its  strange  form  it 
appears  to  the  astonished  eye,  the  Unnatural  Bridge ;  while  the 
most  blase  curiosity  is  always  raised  in.  the  ghostly  halls  of  the 
great  weird  caves — Brownoker  will  take  notice  that  no  pun  is 
intended." 

"  You  seemed,"  interrupted  Mr.  Brownoker,  "  to  think  the 
cave  weird  enough  on  that  unlucky  visit  we  made  last  summer, 
when,  after  much  vain  effort  to  get  out,  we  finally  laid  down  to 
rest  and  to  wait  for  daylight, — and  kept  waiting  for  forty-eight 
long  hours, — waiting,  afraid  to  step,  lest  we  should  jump  from 
Scylla  to  Charybdis — waiting  until  our  anxious  friends  discovered 
us,  in  a  rayless  nook  of  the  Dragon's  rooms,  exactly  a  dozen 
steps  from  the  entrance  and  all  out-doors!  and  it  is  not  sur 
prising  that  the  terrible  Bridge  appeared  somewhat  zm-natural 
to  you,  when  your  self-sacrificing  gallantry  so  fatally  led  you  to 
climb  beyond  return,  after  the  flower  of  a  certain  fair  girl's 
wish,  and  you  hung  like  the  samphire  gatherer  at  his  dreadful 
trade,  the  laugh,  the  jest,  and  riddle  of  the  world — of  merry  and 
provoking  eyes  below  you." 

"I  once,"  said  Mr.  Megilp,  "had  the  folly  to  venture,  alone, 
amidst  the  -  dark  and  dangerous  passages  of  Weir's  Cave,  and  I 
was  lost  to  the  world  for  four  mortal  days,  during  all  which 
dreadful  time  I  was  vainly  seeking  a  means  of  egress.  My 
torches  were  all  burnt  out,  and  I  went  day  after  day,  and  night 
after  night,  wandering  up  and  down  from  one  ghostly  chamber 
to  another:  now  thumping  my  aching  head  against  the  pillars 
of  '  Solomon's  Temple'  :  now  entrapped,  apparently  past  all 
rescue,  in  the  labyrinth  of  the  'Lawyer's  Office':  now  whirled 
around  distractedly  on  the  spacious  floor  of  the  '  Ball  Room' : 
asking  a  bill  of  relief  in  the  '  Senate  Chamber' :  making  the  air 
vocal  with  my  cries  of  distress  at  the  base  of  '  Paganini's 
Statue'  :  and  anon  freezing  to  death  in  'Jacob's  Well,'  with 


ADVENTURE   IN   WEIR'S   CAVE.  51 

no  vision  of  a  ladder  by  which  to  escape.  It  was  a  fearful 
imprisonment,  the  very  recollection  of  which,  even  at  this  re 
mote  day,  makes  my  blood  run  cold.  All  my  garments  were, 
torn  from  my  back,  and  my  flesh  was  horribly  lacerated  by 
continual  rubs  against  the  sharp  angles  of  the  stalactites.  I — " 

"You  must  have  had  a  very  hard  time  indeed,"  interrupted 
Blueblack,  with  an  incredulous  smile.  "How  did  you  manage 
to  live?" 

"To  live?" 

"Yes:  what  did  you  find  to  eat  through  all  that  extra 
ordinary  four  days?" 

"  Ah,  yes !     I  lived — lived — on  fish !" 

"Fish!     Where  did  you  get  them?" 

"Get  them?  Oh,  you  know — those  odd  chaps,  the  eyeless 
animals — not  equal  to  fresh  shad,  but  still  quite  tolerable  in 
an  emergency — they  taste  a  good  deal  like — " 

"You  must  make  a  mistake,"  persisted  Blueblack.  "You 
could  hardly  have  lived  on  the  eyeless  fish,  since  they  are  to 
be  found  not  in  Weir's,  but  in  the  Great  Mammoth  Cave  of 
Kentucky.  Are  you  quite  sure?" 

"Aye,  well  now,  really,  perhaps  I  may  be  wrong.  But  the 
fact  is  I  lived — on  something — let  me  see — but  you  know,  I 
was  so  dreadfully  alarmed  at  my  extraordinary  situation,  that 
I  really  did  not,  do  not,  know  how  I  lived — but  that — " 

"You  are  dreaming,  is  very  probable,"  said  the  disbelieving 
Blueblack.  "But  come,  you  have  told  us  a  very  capital  story, 
and  it  shall  have  all  the  credit  it  deserves." 

The  company,  assuring  Mr.  Megilp  that  they  were  not  to  be 
sold  at  so  low  a  rate,  rallied  him  merrily  upon  the  painful  ex 
ploits  of  his  fancy,  and  the  grave  current  in  which  the  talk  of 
the  evening  had  thus  far  run,  changed  to  a  strain  of  light 
humour  and  gay  recollection;  a  strain  which  the  reader  would 
no  doubt  be  pleased  to  follow,  were  we  not  inexorably  corn- 


52  THE   EOMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

pelled  to  omit  the  entire  record  from  our  minutes,  lest  we 
should  lack  space  and  time  to  report  the  closing  episodes  of 
the  night.  Among  these  interesting  passages  was  an  imaginary 
peep  into  the  eventful  and  dangerous  life  of  the  early  days  of 
Virginia,  afforded  us  by  Mr.  Blueblack  in  his  touching  tale  of 


Cmma 


"  The  hearts  of  the  brave  colonists  were  heavy  within  them. 
Misfortunes  and  afflictions  had  so  thickened  upon  and  crushed 
them,  that  they  were  fain,  even,  to  look  askance  upon  their  old 
friend  Hope,  so  often  had  Hope  cruelly  betrayed  them. 

"At  the  time  of  which  we  speak,  the  numbers  of  the  little 
settlement  —  few  at  best  —  were  gradually  growing  less,  under  the 
triple  scourge  of  famine,  pestilence,  and  the  vengeful  hatred 
of  their  savage  neighbours.  The  good  ship  which  was  daily 
expected  to  bring  relief  to  the  sufferers,  came  not.  In  vain, 
with  each  succeeding  dawn,  did  they  strain  their  watchful  eyes 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  its  distant  sails,  and  turn  again  in  despair 
to  the  supplicating  faces  of  their  dying  friends. 

"  It  needed  all  the  strength  and  courage  of  the  bravest  to 
support  and  cheer  the  weak  and  desponding  ;  and,  happily, 
brave  hearts  were  not  wanting  in  the  hour  of  trial,  though 
they  sometimes  came  from  unexpected  quarters.  Vapouring 
strength  soon  burnt  to  empty  ashes  in  the  fiery  furnace  of  sor 
row,  and  the  true  heroism  blazed  forth  under  its  humblest 
disguises.  Among  the  strong  souls  which  the  exigencies  of  the 
times  developed  was  that  of  our  heroine,  Little  Emma  Mun- 
nerlin,  or  Little  Emma,  as  she  had  been  always  called,  not 
so  much  from  her  physical  diminutiveness,  though  she  was 
but  a  wee  thing,  as  from  the  quiet  gentleness  and  the  tender 
delicacy  of  her  character.  People  lamented  that  a  plant  so 


LITTLE   EMMA   MUNNERLIN.  53 

fragile  should  not  grow  in  a  less  rude  soil ;  yet,  as  the  dainty 
forest-flower  lives  unscathed  on  its  Alpine  rock,  while  the  giant 
trees  fall  prostrate,  so  our  little  Emma  withstood  many  storms 
to  which  sterner  natures  succumbed. 

"  Little  Emma  lived  much  among  her  own  quiet  thoughts 
and  dreams.  She  seldom  had  a  great  deal  to  say,  and  her 
general  humour  was  more  pensive  than  merry  ;  yet  when 
tongues  were  silent,  and  hearts  grew  heavy  around  her,  smiles 
sprang  into  beautiful  life  upon  her  loving  lips,  and  soothing 
and  cheering  words  fell  from  them,  abundant  and  grateful  as 
jewelled  drops  of  summer  showers. 

"Little  Emma,  in  her  modest  humility,  never  ventured  to 
question  the  wisdom  even  of  her  mates ;  and  yet  now,  when 
experienced  matrons,  and  bearded  men,  and  hoary-headed  men 
were  brought,  they  scarce  knew  how,  to  learn  from  her  coun 
sels,  they  stood  in  her  simple  presence  with  some  such  feeling 
of  wondering  reverence  as  that  which  filled  the  hearts  of  the 
Doctors  while  listening  in  the  Temple  to  the  preaching  of  the 
Holy  Child. 

"  Little  Emma  was  by  nature,  physically  and  morally,  at 
most  times,  extremely  timid  and  sensitive ;  all  ugly  objects,  all 
evil  thoughts,  all  human  suifering,  brought  pain  to  her  delicate 
soul ;  and  yet  now,  no  one  was  found  so  continually  at  the 
couch  of  the  sick  and  dying,  no  one  so  unwearied  in  her  sacri 
fices,  as  she.  From  morn  to  night,  she  was  the  gentle  dove 
bearing  the  olive-branch  of  hope  from  door  to  door ;  and  but 
lately,  she  had  saved  the  colony,  by  boldly  venturing  among 
the  savage  tribe  into  whose  hands  they  had  fallen,  to  exert 
the  powerful  influence  which  she  had  strangely  won  over  them, 
through  the  stern  heart  of  the  young  chieftain. 

"  This  singular  conquest  of  poor  little  Emma's  had  long 
been  as  much  a  matter  of  fear  as  of  rejoicing  to  the  people ; 
for  while  they  congratulated  themselves  upon  the  protection 


54  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

which  it  gave  them,  they  shuddered  at  thought  of  the  danger 
to  which  it  might  expose  the  gentle  child.  And  now,  when 
the  extraordinary  beauty  and  worth  of  Little  Emma's  character 
was  daily  growing  into  the  knowledge  and  the  love  of  the 
people,  they  watched  with  terror  the  strengthening  passion  of 
the  savage  wooer,  trembling  lest  it  might  at  some  time  over 
step  the  sacred  bounds  to  which  the  same  power  which  had 
inspired  had  thus  far  restrained  it. 

"  Great  as  was  the  general  concern  on  this  score,  there  was 
one  who,  far  above  all  others,  was  tortured  by  apprehension 
and  dread — a  worthy  youth,  who  had  been  more  prompt  than 
others  to  discover  the  charm  of  Little  Emma's  nature,  or  had 
rather,  perhaps,  been  drawn  unconsciously  within  the  spell  of 
its  influence ;  one  whose  assumed  right  to  advise  and  guard 
her,  she  had  never  thought  to  deny. 

"  Often  and  earnestly  did  this  privileged  friend  remonstrate 
with  her  upon  the  rash  confidence  with  which  she  ventured 
among  her  savage  admirers,  and  more  especially  did  he  warn 
her  against  the  danger  of  her  unsuspecting  trust  of  the  enam 
oured  chief. 

"  '  It  is  true,'  said  he,  '  that  he  possesses  a  native  dignity, 
chivalry,  and  refinement  of  nature  unwonted  to  his  people,  and 
strange  to  all  the  circumstances  and  influences  under  which  he 
has  been  born  and  bred — characteristics  which  his  extraordinary 
esteem  for  you  has  wonderfully  developed  and  exalted.  Thus 
far,  the  truth  and  depth  of  his  passion — for  he  loves  you  with 
a  sincere  and  pure  worship  that  would  do  honour  to  the  most 
Christian  soul — has  made  him  the  humble  and  yielding  slave 
to  your  will ;  but  have  a  care,  my  darling,  lest  he  become 
mad  in  the  tortures  of  hope  delayed,  and  this  same  earnest 
ness  and  truth  which,  thus  far,  have  been  your  shield,  should 
turn  to  your  destruction.  I  tremble  when  I  think  of  the 
terrible  mine  under  your  feet,  and  which  a  single  spark  of 


LITTLE   EMMA   MUNNERLIN.  55 

fancied  scorn  may  spring.  Believe  me.  Emma  dear,  that  you 
are  playing  with  a  sleeping  lion.' 

"  These  warnings,  often  repeated,  were  not  without  their 
effect  upon  the  mind  of  Little  Emma,  especially  when,  as  she 
sometimes  .did,  she  thought  she  discovered  a  growing  expres 
sion  of  restless  and  angry  impatience  in  the  dark  eyes  and 
the  passionate  words  of  her  savage  wooer ;  yet  she  still  con 
tinued  to  meet  him  freely  and  frankly  when  he  came,  as  he 
often  did,  to  the  village — as  he  had  done,  indeed,  through  all 
his  life. 

" '  What  have  I  to  fear  ?'  she  said  to  her  own  heart ; 
'  and  if  there  is  danger,  I  cannot,  to  save  myself,  bring  down 
their  fearful  vengeance  upon  all  my  beloved  friends.  What 
,is  my  poor  useless  life  in  comparison  with  the  general  hap 
piness  ?' 

"  At  length  when,  in  one  of  these  frequent  interviews, 
Outalissi — so  was  the  chief  named — sat  by  the  river-side,  at 
the  feet  of  Gentle-Heart,  as  in  his  poetic  tongue  he  called  our 
Little  Emma,  he  told  her  the  story  of  his  love,  in  a  voice 
so  soft  yet  so  earnest,  and  in  words  so  simple  yet  so  passion 
ate,  that  her  tender  heart  overflowed  with  intense  interest  and 
sympathy,  as  she  sought  to  calm  his  wild  emotion,  and  to 
teach  him  how  impossible  it  was  for  the  white  dove  to  mate 
with  the  lordly  eagle. 

"  Edward  Harrison,  the  youth  of  whom  we  have  before 
spoken,  and  who  of  late  had  never  lost  sight  of  his  betrothed, 
had  been  for  some  time  an  unobserved  spectator  of  this  scene. 
He  now  stood  forth,  with  pallid  face  and  angry  eyes.  Outa 
lissi  started  to  his  feet  as  he  clutched  the  weapon  at  his  side, 
and  glared  upon  the  intruder  with  all  the  savagery  of  his 
race. 

"  Little  Emma  sprang  to  cast  her  shielding  arms  about  her 
lover,  while  she  bent  a  reproachful  and  imploring  look  upon 


56  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

the  chief.  The  group  stood  thus,  motionless  and  voiceless,  for 
some  moments,  when  the  Indian,  with  a  bitter  and  meaning 
glance,  which  made  the  white  youth  tremble,  and  sank  like 
ice  into  the  heart  of  our  heroine,  turned  slowly  away,  and 
was  soon  lost  to  sight  in  the  darkening  depths  of  the  forest 

"  '  This  can  last  no  longer,'  said  Edward,  when  his  speech 
came  back  to  him,  '  happen  what  may.' 

"'No,  no!'  said  the  trembling  girl,  'we  must  not  madden 
him,  and  bring  down  the  anger  of  his  tribe  upon  our  defence 
less  people,  now,  when  they  have  so  many  other  afflictions  to 
bear.  You  must  seek  tim — bring  him  back,  and ' 

" '  Ha  !  is  it  so  ?'  said  the  lad,  with  a  bitter,  unnatural 
laugh.  '  You  cannot  part  with  him  !  He  has  then  stolen  away 
your  treacherous  heart !  You  love  this ' 

"  '  This — this  from  you,  Edward  !'  gasped  the  poor  child, 
stung  to  the  soul  by  his  cruel  words.  '  He — he  might  kill 
me,  but  he  could  not  be  unkind  as  you.' 

"  '  Forgive  me — forgive  me,  Emma !  I  did  not  mean  to  say 
that.  I  was  mad,  and  knew  not  what  I  did.  But  promise  me 
that  you  will  see  him  no  more ;  promise  me  this,  or' 

" '  Do  not  look  upon  me  so !  I  cannot  bear  it !  I — I 
promise !' 

"Days  passed  on,  and  Outalissi  came  back.  He  met  Little 
Emma  in  the  streets  of  the  village,  but  she  avoided  him.  He 
sought  her  at  her  own  home,  but  was  denied.  He  sent  her 
messages,  but  received  no  answers.  A  heavy  shadow  darkened 
his  brow,  and  chilled  the  hearts  of  the  affrighted  people.  Their 
distress  was  hourly  increasing,  and  hope  and  heaven  seemed  to 
have  deserted  them  when  Little  Emma  smiled  no  more. 

"As  a  last  struggle  against  the  famine  which  surrounded 
them,  the  best  and  bravest  of  the  colonists  now  set  forth  on  a 
forlorn  quest  for  food.  The  vague  forebodings  with  which  they 
undertook  their  dangerous  mission  proved  to  be  not  unreal ;  for 


LITTLE    EMMA   MUNNERLIN.  57 

the  last  drop  seemed  poured  into  the  cup  of  the  sufferers  at 
home  when  the  intelligence  was  brought  them,  not  simply  that 
the  errand  was  fruitless,  but  that  their  fathers  and  brothers  and 
lovers  were  captives  in  the  strong  hands  of  Outalissi. 

"  A  cry  of  despair  now  arose  from  the  hearts  of  all  the 
devoted  villagers,  which  was  soon  hushed  into  a  strange  ex 
pectant  stillness  when  the  whisper  grew  that  the  exasperated 
chief  refused  all  ransom  for  his  captives  but  the  willing  hand 
of  Little  Emma. 

"'Save  us!  Save  my  father,  save  my  son, — my  brother!' 
was  the  universal  and  agonized  voice,  as  the  poor  people  gath 
ered  around  the  devoted  girl,  when  she  appeared  calm  as  a 
statue,  but  as  lifeless  and  as  cold,  in  their  midst.  And  then 
other  thoughts  and  emotions  rushing  into  their  hearts,  they 
forbade  her  to  leave  them,  crying,  '  We  will  all  die  together.' 

"  "With  a  look  as  fixed,  and  a  tongue  as  speechless,  as  that 
with  which  she  came,  Little  Emma  went  back  to  her  silent 
home,  where  she  refused  all  counsel  and  all  companionship. 

"  The  day  for  the  payment  of  the  exacted  ransom,  when,  if 
it  were  not  made,  the  captives  were  doomed  to  death,  ap 
proached,  and  an  awful  stillness  reigned  through  the  stricken 
village.  All  resistance  was  vain,  and  there  was  left  but  one 
hope — a  hope  of  which  they  dared  not  speak  or  think. 


"  Painfully  and  terribly  different  was  the  scene  in  the  camp 
of  Outalissi.  Here  a  wild  revelry  rung  through  the  air,  as  the 
delighted  savages  danced  and  shouted  around  their  expected 
victims. 

"  Casting  a  last  eager  but  disappointed  look  into  the  gath 
ering  gloom,  Outalissi  turned  to  give  the  order  for  the  massacre 
of  his  captives,  when  a  shrill  cry  rose  above  all  the  mad  con 
fusion,  and,  the  next  instant,  every  sound  was  hushed  as  a 


58  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

young  girl  sprung  into  the  midst  of  the  grim  throng  and  stood 
before  the  chief. 

"  '  Stay — stay  your  bloody  hands,'  she  cried,  c  I  am  yours — 
release  your  captives.  Ah!  Outalissi,  is  it  thus  you  woo  me?' 

"  '  It  is  well,  maiden,'  he  said,  and  in  a  few  brief  words  he 
explained  to  the  captives  the  terms  upon  which  their  lives  and 
safety  had  been  purchased. 

"  '  You  are  free,  my  brothers,'  he  added,  as  he  took  the 
passive  hand  of  Gentle-Heart  in  his  own. 

"  '  Never,  wretch !'  cried  Edward  Harrison,  as,  breaking  the 
thongs  by  which  he  was  still  bound,  and  snatching  the  hatchet 
from  the  hands  of  his  guard,  he  sprung  towards  the  chief. 

"  'Stop,  stop,'  shouted  Little  Emma — 'you  will  but  slay  us 
all !  He  keeps  his  promise  in  setting  you  at  liberty,  and  I — -I 
must  keep  mine!  Go  home — go,  Edward — go,  my  father — go, 
my  friends,  carry  joy  with  you  to  many  breaking  hearts !  Pray 
for,  but  do  not  mourn  for  Little  Emma !' 

"  The  solemn  earnestness  of  the  child's  words,  and  the  lofty 
courage  which  spoke  in  her  whole  air  and  action,  paralyzed 
the  tongues  and  the  hearts  of  her  friends  and  excited  the  won 
dering  admiration  of  the  disappointed  savages.  It  was  one  of 
those  supreme  moments,  which  bring  forth  all  the  purest  emo 
tions  of  the  human  heart;  and  Outalissi  felt  its  hallowed  spell. 
With  his  native  nobility  and  generosity  of  character,  he  again 
took  the  hand  of  Little  Emma  and  placed  it  with  a  sad  smile 
in  that  of  his  rival. 

"  '  Gentle-Heart  may  go  back  to  her  own  people,'  said  he. 
'  She  is  too  good  for  Outalissi !' 

"  I  need  not  speak  of  the  joy  of  the  happy  captives,  or  of 
the  glad  greeting  which  welcomed  their  triumphant  return. 
Still  less  need  I  tell  you  how  Outalissi  faithfully  protected 
Gentle-Heart  and  her  people,  for  natures  like  his  err  only  for 
a  moment;  or  of  the  sunshine  which  lighted  the  after  life  of 


TOM,   DICK,   AND   HARRY.  59 

Little  Emma,  for  such  souls  as  hers  live  always  in  sunshine — 
the  sunshine  of  their  own  pure  and  beautiful  thoughts." 


We  must  omit  the  record  of  the  congratulations  and  com 
ments  which  followed  Blueblack's  deeply  affecting  narrative, 
further  than  to  mention  a  remark  with  which  Mr.  Brownoker 
introduced  another  and  gayer  story. 

"I  have  a  high  respect  for  'Little  Emma,'"  said  that  gen 
tleman,  "  but  I  must  protest  against  such  agonizing  histories, 
when  one  has  no  handkerchief  in  his  pocket.  I  can  give  you 
a  much  more  cheerful  reminiscence  of  Virginia,  if  you  would 
like  to  hear  it,  as  of  course  you  would— don't  shake  your  heads, 
for  you  must  submit.  My  heroine  is  another  kind  of  young 
person  from  Blueblack's,  but  then  you  know  it  takes  all  sorts 
of  people  to  make  a  world.  "Pis  a  little  personal  adventure — 
happened  on  a  visit  to  the  Springs.  I  call  it 


Cam,  $irfi,  aitir 


"  Dick  Bones  was  about  to  be  married,   and  I  was  on  the 

road  to   the  fu the   wedding  I   mean.     The   affair   was   to 

come  off  at  the  White  Sulphur  Springs.  I  looked  over  the 
way-bill  before  stepping  into  the  coach :  found  only  one  pas 
senger — Brown  ;  but  who  the  deuce  Brown  was,  didn't  know — 
didn't  want  to  know :  plump'd  myself  down  on  the  back  seat 
— and  a  bundle,  which  bundle  on  inspection  proved  to  be 
Brown  in  person  and  in  a  passion — said  'How  are  you?'  to  him: 
don't  like  to  repeat  what  he  said  to  me  in  reply.  Tried  to 
sleep,  but  what  with  the  everlasting  jolting  over  the  hills — 
Byron  was  right  in  saying,  '  High  mountains  are  a  feeling' — 


60  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

and  Brown's  distressing  dreams  of  a  certain  faithless  Jemima, 
couldn't  manage  it. 

"  '  She  never  loved  me !'  muttered  Brown. 

"  '  Served  you  right,'  said  I. 

"  '  Peace,  peace,  weary  heart !'  he  continued. 

"  '  Yes,  peace,  peace,  for  heaven's  sake,'  I  answered.  But 
there  was  no  peace  till  morn,  when,  just  as  I  was  wondering 
what  'perilous  stuff'  was  weighing  upon  the  heart  of  my 
fellow  traveller,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  sad  phiz,  and  to 
my  amazement  recognized  my  old,  long-absent  friend,  Harry, 
who.  as  it  turned  out,  was,  like  myself,  going  to  '  assist '  at 
the  sacrifice  of  our  mutual  crony,  Dick  Bones. 

"'Alas,  poor  Dick!'  said  I,  as  the  conversation  turned  upon 
the  fate  of  our  friend.  '  This  is  a  world  of  vicissitudes ;  who 
would  have  thought  it?' 

"  '  Cut  down  in  the  flower  of  his  youth  !'  said  Harry,  with 
a  commiserating  sigh. 

"  '  Yerily,  we  know  not  what  an  hour  or  a  day  may  bring 
forth,'  I  answered.  'Even  you,  Harry — you,  the  high  priest  of 
our  bachelor  faith,  are  not  secure.  Some  treacherous  Jemima — ' 

" '  Jemima !'  cried  Harry,  with  a  look  of  conscious  guilt  that 
confirmed  my  suspicions  of  his  backsliding. 

"  '  May  yet  come  to  break  your  virtuous  rest  and  disturb 
your  innocent  dreams.' 

"  '  Did  I  dream  last  night,  Tom,  and  aloud  ?' 

"  'Very  loud,  about ' 

"  '  Say  no  more,  Tom — I  own  up !  I  have  been  weak,  but 
it's  all  over,  long  ago,  and  Harry  is  himself  again.  But  the 
temptation  was  great' — so  were  Brown's  sighs,  as  he  continued. 
'  The  beauty  and  graces  of  my  Jemima  might  have  tried  the 
sternest  virtue ;  and  when  she  persuaded  me  that  her  dainty 
heart  was  all  my  own,  and  that  she  coiild  live  only  in  the 
light  of  my  dear  love,  what  could  I  do  but ' 


TOM,   DICK,   AND   HARRY.  61 

" '  Think  it  all  gammon,  as  became  the  spirit  of  your 
bachelor  creed.' 

"'As  it  all  proved,  indeed,  to  be;  for  when,  on  my  recent 
return  from  China,  whither  I  went  to  win  a  fortune  for  the 
darling  girl,  I  rushed  to  receive  her  welcoming  embrace,  what 
should  I  learn  but  that,  while  writing  everlasting  fidelity  to 
me,  she  had  been  talking  devoted  love  to  another,  and  at  that 
moment  was  dying  for  a  third  happy  man — some  richer  prize 
than  either  myself  or  my  unknown  fellow  sufferer.  She  and 
her  innocent  victim,  whom  she  is  soon  to  marry,  are  now,  I 
am  told,  at  the  Springs,  where  we  may  have  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  them.' 

" '  And  this,  then,  Harry,  is  your  heroic  recantation  of  error !' 
said  I ;  but  I  had  not  the  impudence  to  rally  my  poor  friend 
very  severely,  not  being  myself  too  strongly  armed  in  honesty; 
for  the  fact  is,  I,  too,  had  once  fancied  myself  the  light  and 
life  of  a  Jemima's  soul,  only  to  find  myself  put  out,  as  I 
might  have  expected,  by  the  first  brighter  luminary  which 
crossed  the  Jemima  orbit.  All  this  I  generously  confessed  to 
Harry,  much  to  his  delight  and  comfort ;  and  we  talked  for 
hours  about  the  vanity  of  women  and  the  fallacy  of  love, 
rejoicing  at  our  own  lucky  escape  from  their  insidious  snares, 
mourning  over  the  mad  credulity  of  our  benighted  friend,  Dick, 
and  becoming  more  inexorable  bigots  in  the  bachelor  faith  than 
ever.  Promising  ourselves  no  little  amusement  in  rejoining  our 
fickle  goddesses  at  the  Springs — for  there,  too,  I  expected  to 
find  my  Jemima — the  day  wore  on,  and  our  journey  came  to 
an  end. 

"  "We  arrived,  fortunately,  in  season  to  greet  and  rally  our 
devoted  friend,  Dick,  before  the  hour  of  sacrifice.  "We  did  not 
spare  the  fellow,  I  assure  you ;  indeed,  we  were  the  more  im 
placable  in  the  stinging  remembrance  of  our  own  short-comings. 

"  '  That's  all   very   well,   boys,'   said  Dick,    with  an  imper- 


62  THE   ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

turbable  and  complacent  smile.  '  But  let  me  tell  you,  scoffers 
as  you  are,  that  if  the  time  has  not  yet  come,  it  may  come, 
when  each  of  you  will  have 

" some  plan 


To  win  himself  a  loving  wife, 
And  be  a  married  man." 

When  that  hour  does  come,  I  only  hope  that  you  will  find 
as  beautiful  and  pure  a  shrine  at  which  to  confess  your  sins 
as  I  have.  But  come,  I  must  present  you  to  my  jewel.  It 
will  be  a  pleasant  surprise  to  her,  for  you  must  know  that 
Jemima  is  acquainted  with  you  both.' 

"'Jemima  again!'  I  exclaimed. 

"  '  Jemima  !'  echoed  Harry. 

" '  Jemima  know  me !'  cried  both  of  us. 

"  '  Come,  come  along,  boys !'  interrupted  Dick  impatiently, 
dragging  us  towards  a  gay  circle,  and  presenting  us  to  its 
bright  particular  star. 

" '  Jemima,  my  love,  I  have  the  unexpected  pleasure  to 
bring  you  our  old  friends,  Tom  and  Harry.' 

"As  the  lady  turned  to  greet  us,  I  stood  petrified  at  dis 
covering  the  very  Jemima  of  my  own  love,  and  looking  round 
at  the  sound  of  a  stifled  laugh  at  my  elbow,  I  found  Harry 
Brown  choking  with  glee. 

"  Harry  looked  at  me,  and  I  looked  at  Harry,  and  we 
both  looked  at  Dick,  and  Dick  looked  at  Jemima,  and  Jemima 
looked  at  all  of  us,  and  a  more  striking  tableau,  altogether, 
it  would  be  very  difficult  to  imagine ! 

"'Aye,  how?'  said  Dick  at  last,  nervously.  '"What  does  all 
this  mean,  boys?' 

"  '  That  the  lady  should  have  been  off  with  the  old  love 
before  being  on  with  the  new,'  said  I. 

"'That   she   should,    pursuant   to   promise,    have    died    long 


TOM,   DICK,   AND   HARRY.  63 

ago,  all  for  tlie  love  of  poor  Harry  Brown,'  said  my  travelling 
friend. 

"  But  the  scene  which,  followed  was  entirely  too  dramatic 
for  my  poor  powers  of  description;  and  I  will  simply  add,  that 
Dick  very  soon  saw  through  the  whole  affair,  and  the  bride 
elect  was  given  to  understand  that  he  was  not  generous  enough 
to  content  himself  with  a  third  place  in  her  heart,  and  was  too 
unselfish  to  stand  in  the  way  of  his  old  friends ! 

"  The  match  was  broken  off,  and  from  that  day  to  this  our 
glorious  triumvirate  of  bachelors  has  continued  intact  and  in 
vincible;  so  much  so  that  we  are  known  among  our  acquaint 
ances  by  the  soubriquet  of  the  Shadrach,  Meshech,  and  Abednego 
of  celibates,  having  all  passed  through  the  burning  fiery  fur 
nace  of  love  unscathed. 

"  You  will,  perhaps,  suppose  that  with  this  triple  weight  of 
blighted  affection  on  her  memory,  Jemima  soon  died  of  a  bro 
ken  heart,  but  I  assure  you  that  she  is  still  alive  and  as  ready 
as  ever  for  a  first,  fresh,  and  undying  affection." 


On  motion,  meeting  adjourned. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

HAVING  expressed  a  fear  that  our  friends  would  grow  weary 
of  their  self-imposed  task,  and  most  heartily  wish  our  book  at 
the — printers,  we  were  cheered  by  a  unanimous  assurance  of 
a  deep  and  increasing  interest  in  our  reunions. 

"  We  need,"  said  Mr.  Deepredde,  gravely,  "  in  our  profes 
sion,  as  in  all,  and  indeed  in  our  whole  social  economy,  more 
such  fraternal  association.  It  is  the  moral  and  intellectual 
sunshine  which  warms  the  hidden  germ  of  thought  into  life, 
and  matures  it  into  the  most  thorough  and  successful  achieve 
ment.  It  is,  in  its  multiform  applications  and  uses,  the  lever 
which,  of  all  others,  must  pry  our  poor  sunken  world  out  of  its 
quagmire  of  ignorance  and  evil,  and  bring  about — if  it  is  ever 
to  be  brought  about — the  much  talked  of  perfectibility  of  our 
race." 

"  It  strengthens  those  bonds  of  mutual  esteem  and  love," 
added  Mr.  Flakewhite,  "  which  smooth  the  rutle  places  in  our 
path,  and  make  us  hopeful  and  daring  in  the  armour  of  the 
assured  sympathy  and  appreciation  of  our  confreres.  How  much 
more  should  we  painters  not  do,  if  there  dwelt  between  us  that 
brotherly  love  which  rilled  the  soul  of  Gainsborough,  when  he 
'  5 


66  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

joyfully  exclaimed  to  the  friends  gathered  about  his  dying 
couch,  '  "We  are  all  going  to  Heaven,  and  Vandyke  will  be 
of  the  party !'  " 

"  At  any  rate,"  said  Brownoker,  "  such  reunions  as  ours, 
whatever  they  may  be  more  aesthetically  considered,  are  in 
valuable,  if  but  for  the  pleasure  they  bring  while  they  last. 
They  cheer  the  present  hour,  and  if  we  could  be  rational 
enough  to  content  ourselves  with  this  power,  always  within  the 
Teach,  of  enjoying  the  present  moment,  without,  like  the  silly 
pendulum  in  the  fable,  burthening  it  with  the  thought  of  la 
bours  and  trials  not  yet  arrived,  the  aggregate  would  be  a 
life-time  of  gladness.  How  the  mountain  of  our  miseries  would 
sink,  would  we  but  cease  to  throw  upon  it  the  sorrows  of  the 
past,  which  we  cannot  recall,  and  the  fears  of  the  future,  which 
is  beyond  our  foresight  or  control." 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  resumed  Mr.  Deepredde,  as  he  sought 
to  make  himself  more  permanently  comfortable  in  his  chair  of 
state,  "  now  that  we  have  satisfied  ourselves  that  it  is  good  for 
us  to  be  here,  let  us  convince  our  readers  that  it  is  salutary  for 
them  also,  by  continuing  the  special  discourse  for  which  they 
have  so  kindly  yielded  to  us  their  patient  buttons.  Spread  out 
your  map,  my  dear  host,  and  let  us  define  our  position." 

"  "We  have  one  more  tramp  to  make  in  the  Old  Dominion, 
as  we  follow  Washington  through  the  icy  floods  of  the  Alle- 
ghany,"  we  replied,  producing  Mr.  Huntington's  picture  of  that 
memorable  adventure. 

The  members  having  duly  studied  the  sketch  of  the  evening, 
unanimously  called  upon  the  chairman  for  a  resume  of  the 
cause,  course,  and  consequence  of  the  event  which  it  recorded. 

"  The  incident  which  our  picture  commemorates,"  said  Mr. 
Deepredde,  "  had  a  great  effect  upon  the  fortunes  of  our  coun 
try,  and  was  very  significant  of  that  high  principle  in  the 
character  of  Washington — his  conscientiousness  and  lofty  respect 


THE  ALLEGHANTT;  OB,  THE  MAN  OF  DUTY.        67 

for  duty — from  which  chiefly  sprung  the  virtues  and  successes 
of  his  life.  It  may  be  less  tedious,  perhaps,  if  I  make  my  narra 
tive  in  the  fashion  of  a  romance." 

A  general  cry  of  approval  followed  this  suggestion,  and 
the  entire  table  seemed  not  a  little  curious  to  witness  the  del)ut 
of  the  grave  chairman  on  the  treacherous  stage  of  fiction. 

"Pray  don't  drown  yourself  in  pathos,"  said  Brownoker, 
laughingly. 

"  Or  disappear  in  the  mystic  labyrinth  of  plot  and  strategy," 
added  Vermeille. 

"  Or  kill  us  outright,"  continued  Makewhite,  "  by  being,  like 
Holmes,  as  '  funny  as  you  can.' " 

"  Above  all  be  "truthful,  and  do  not  exceed  sober  fact," 
added  the  conscientious  Megilp. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  afflicted  novelist  elect,  "  you  must 
expect  neither  pathos,  plot,  humour,  nor  dramatic  effect  from  me. 
They  are  not  in  my  line.  The  truth,  however,  you  shall  have — 
and  it  seems  to  me  a  truth  worth  treasuring — which  we  may 
read  in  the  story  of 


Cfje 


All  tongues  were  hushed,  and  an  unwonted  gravity  spread 
over  the  company,  as  Mr.  Deepredde  thus  solemnly  and  omi- 
iiously  announced  his  text.  The  general  breathing,  however, 
was  more  free  when  he  thus  began:  — 

"  A  hundred  years  have  gone  since  the  incidents  which  I 
am  about  to  narrate  transpired  :  a  long,  long  lapse,  gentlemen, 
in  our  country's  brief  life,  and  full  of  changes  as  the  interval 
between  childhood  and  manhood. 

"  Gazing  pensively   into  the  passing  floods    of   the    Kappa- 


68  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

hannoc,  as  if  asking  of  the  murmuring  waters  the  story  of  her 
future  life,  sat  a  fair  maiden,  apparently  of  some  sixteen  tender 
summers. 

"  '  Would  he  leave  me  thus,'  said  she,  '  if  indeed  he  loved 
me?  Does  true  love  bend  to  any  stronger  passion?  He  talks 
to  me  of  honour  and  duty !  What  is  honour,  what  is  duty, 
when ' 

"  Here  the  soliloquist  abruptly  stopped,  as  a  bounding  step 
broke  the  quiet  of  the  still  night,  and  brought  a  stalwart  and 
handsome  youth  to  her  side. 

"  '  Honour  and  duty,  my  dear  Martha,'  said  the  lad,  bending 
over  her  with  an  expression  of  kind  yet  grave  reproof,  '  are, 
not  the  rivals  but  the  kindred  of  love.  It  would  be  a  joy 
indeed  for  me  to  be  always  near  you,  but  that  may  not  be. 
Life  has  its  labours  and  its  sacrifices,  in  the  manly  and  hon 
est  discharge  of  which  we  may  earn  a  generous  relish  for  its 
pleasures.' 

" '  And  must  you  go  then,  dear  George  ?  What  is  the 
necessity  for  this  dangerous  and  wearisome  expedition?  Why 
cannot  some  other  perform  the  task  as  well  as  you?' 

"  '  Ah !  do  not  tempt  me !  You  do  not  speak  with  your 
characteristic  generosity.  Eemember  that  the  welfare  of  our 
country  demands  the  labour  and  services  of  all  her  sons,  and 
of  her  daughters,  too,'  he  added,  kissing  her  fair  brow ;  '  and 
your  only  feeling  on  the  subject  should  be  one  of  pride  that 
our  worthy  Governor  has  honoured  me  with  so  important  a 
trust.' 

'"I  am  proud,'  said  the  girl,  'of  the  high  confidence  reposed 
in  you,  and  I  am  sure  that  you  will  prove  yourself  in  all 
ways  deserving  of  it.  Heaven  will  protect  you,  and  bring  you 
back  to  me  in  safety.  I  have  been  told  many  stories,  before 
the  present,  of  your  brave  obedience  to  the  calls  of  duty, 
and  such  a  trait  cannot  but  lead  to  success  and  happiness  in 


THE  ALLEGHANT;   OB,  THE  MAN  OF  DUTY.  69 

life.  But  not  to-morrow,  George — you  do  not  go  to-morrow? 
You  will  give  me  one  more  day  ?' 

"  '  To-morrow,  Martha,  at  dawn,  we  must  begin  our  march. 
The  journey  through  the  wilderness  will  be  long,  and  it  is 
important  to  the  colony  that  we  reach  the  French  posts  on 
the  Ohio  without  unnecessary  delay,  that  we  may  seasonably 
check  their  ambitious  and  aggressive  schemes  to  hem  us  in  on 
this  side  of  the  mountains.' 

'"And  have  we  not  room  enough?' 

'"Plenty,  at  present,'  laughed  the  lad;  'but  a  hundred  years 
hence,  we  shall  stretch  our  giant  arms  far  beyond  the  Ohio — 
perhaps  even  to  the  distant  waters  of  the  Pacific.  Who  can 
read  the  destiny  of  this  new  and  aspiring  land  ?' 

"  '  Well,  well,'  sighed  the  young  girl.  '  I  do  not  quite 
understand  these  things,  but  I  can  sympathize  with  your  en 
thusiasm  and  your  courage,  and  I  will  pray  earnestly  for  your 
success.' 

"  Long  and  lovingly  did  the  youthful  pair  stroll  up  and 
down  the  noiseless  river  banks,  until  the  lapse  of  time  com 
pelled  the  lad  to  guide  his  betrothed  to  her  home  hard  by, 
and  to  seek  that  repose  he  himself  so  much  needed  before 
repairing  to  Williamsburg,  to  receive  his  instructions  and  com 
mence  his  perilous  explorations. 

"  On  the  following  morning,  the  31st  of  November,  1753, 
a  morning  which,  happily,  was  auspicious  in  its  brightness, 
the  good  Governor  Dinwiddie  and  the  people  of  Williamsburg 
gave  our  adventurer  God  speed,  and  he  set  out  with  his  few 
companions  on  his  dreary  traverse  of  the  great  untrodden  wil 
derness.  Those  who  pass,  at  the  present  day,  over  the  route 
which  our  young  ambassador  pursued,  will  scarcely  infer  from 
its  condition  now,  the  dangers  which  then  beset  it ;  with  no 
path  but  the  rough  guidance  of  the  compass,  and  with  no 
inhabitants  but  wild  beasts  and  scarcely  less  wild  savages. 


70  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

"During  the  first  fortnight,  the  little  party  traversed  alter 
nate  forest  and  settlement,  passing  over  the  ground  where  now 
stand  Fredericksburg,  Alexandria,  and  Winchester.  At  the 
expiration  of  this  period,  they  reached  the  last  verge  of  civi 
lization,  at  the  junction  of  Wills'  Creek  and  the  Potomac,  now 
occupied  by  the  busy  streets  of  Cumberland,  in  Maryland.  At 
this  period,  the  spot  was  marked  by  the  poor  'settlement  only 
of  the  famous  hunter,  Christopher  Gist.  Here  our  travellers 
proposed  to  halt  for  slight  repose,  and  to  increase  the  strength 
of  their  party  by  the  enrolment  of  some  Indian  guides,  and 
more  especially  with  the  good  companionship  of  the  stout  old 
Kit  himself.  They  had  not,  thus  far,  entered  upon  the  more 
toilsome  and  hazardous  part  of  their  journey ;  and  yet  the 
eyes,  even  of  the  veterans  of  the  expedition,  brightened,  as  they 
descried  the  curling  smoke  of  the  hunter's  cabin,  and  as  the 
delight  of  human  intercourse  beyond  the  range  of  their  own 
circle  came  again  within  their  reach. 

" '  Well,  say  no  more  on  that  point,  my  boys ;  I  give  in. 
It's  rather  hard  to  leave  the  old  woman  and  the  youngsters, 
low  as  they  are,  just  now,  with  this  cussed  fever,  but  since 
you  say  the  thing  is  important — and,  to  tell  the  truth,  I've 
been  a  good  deal  of  that  way  of  thinking  for  some  time  past 
— I'm  at  your  service.  But  it's  no  child's  errand  you  are  going 
on.  Them  mountain  peaks  can't  be  got  over  in  kid  slippers 
any  time,  and  just  now  a  hard  winter  is  coming  on  us :  the 
ground  is  already  covered  with  snow,  and  the  rivers  and  creeks 
are  big  enough  to  show  pretty  strong  fight.' 

"  '  We  do  not  expect  a  pleasure  trip,  good  Christopher,  and 
whatever  we  might  do  alone,  certainly  in  your  company  we 
shall  not  turn  cowards.' 

"  '  Well  said,  my  lads.  •  These  are  no  times  for  dainty  gen 
tlemen,  and  I'm  glad  to  see  you  so  ready  and  hearty  to  serve 
your  country.  And,  as  I  was  saying  just  now,  you  are  none 


THE  ALLEGHANY;  OK,  THE  MAN  OF  DUTY.         71 

too  soon.  These  cussed  Frenchmen  will  steal  a  march,  on  us 
if  we  don't  keep  a  bright  eye,  and  a  strong  hand  too,  on  'em. 
I  havn't  been  at  the  settlement  lately,  but  I've  heer'd  from 
some  of  my  red-skins,  whom  I  can  trust — and  you  can't  trust 
many  on  'em — they're  mighty  slippery ;  that  that  shrewd  old 
villain,  St.  Pierre — though  I  must  say  for  him  he's  dreadful 
civil  spoken — is  making  a  powerful  wigwam  of  that  old  fort, 
Le  Boeuf ;  his  people  is  winding  themselves  down  from  Canada 
and  up  from  Louisiana;  and  before  we  know  it,  they'll  join 
hands  from  north  to  south,  and  dance  a  jig  around  his  majesty's 
colonies  to  a  tune  it  will  be  terrible  onpleasant  to  hear.' 

"  '  That  is  the  opinion  of  the  Governor  and  his  Council,' 
said  our  minister,  '  and,  since  we  are  by  ourselves,  I  will  tell 
you  that  my  errand  is  to  check  this  progress  of  the  French ; 
first,  by  politely  telling  your  civil  friend  St.  Pierre  that  his 
room  is  more  desirable  than  his  company,  and  next,  should  he 
not  accept  my  invitation  to  return  home,  to  learn  the  best  way 
of  making  him  do  so.  To  accomplish  this,  I  need  your  assist 
ance,  not  only  to  reach  the  Fort  at  the  earliest  moment,  but  to 
inform  myself  of  the  strength  of  the  enemy  in  every  way,  and, 
above  all,  to  secure  the  good-will  of  the  Indians.' 

"  '  We'll  soon  get  to  the  old  dog's  kennel,  and  see  what 
bones  he's  got  to  live  on;  but  as  to  the  red-skins,  as  I  told 
you,  they  can't  be  trusted;  though  of  the  two,  I  rather  think 
they  like  our  people  the  best ;  still  they're  not  such  fools  that 
they  can't  see  that  between  both  sides  they  may  lose  every 
thing  themselves.  An  old  warrior  asked  me  once,  if  the 
French  were  to  hold  all  the  lands  west  of  the  Alleghanies, 
and  the  English  all  to  the  eastward,  what  then  would  be  left 
for  him?' 

"  '  A  difficult  question  to  answer,   certainly,'  said   our   trav 
eller,    laughing,    '  but  we   must  secure  their    friendship    in    the 
best  way  we  can.     Where  is  Tanacharison  now  ?' 


72  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

"  '  We  shall  probably  find  him  near  Logstown,  which  will 
be  the  best  place  to  assemble  the  chiefs.  But  we  must  be  care 
ful  :  St.  Pierre  will  hear  of  us  long  before  he  sees  us.  His  spies 
are  about  thick  as  copper-heads,  and  about  as  troublesome  to 
meet,  too.' 

"  '  We'll  be  a  match  for  them,'  said  our  traveller,  cheerily, 
'  and  now,  good  Christopher,  you,  not  less  than  the  rest  of  us, 
must  lay  in  some  supply  of  sleep  before  morning.' 

"  After  thus  dismissing  his  council  of  travel,  our  young 
hero,  wakeful  in  his  anxiety  and  earnestness,  stole  out  of  the 
cabin,  and  for  a  long  while  paced  thoughtfully  up  and  down 
the  half-cleared  space  in  front.  In  the  midst  of  his  medita 
tions  his  quick  ear  caught  the  sound  of  a  stealthy  step,  and, 
turning  abruptly,  he  descried  the  figure  of  an  approaching- 
Indian. 

"'What  does  my  brother  want?'  he  quietly  asked,  not, 
however,  without  grasping  his  sword  in  a  not  very  brotherly 
manner. 

" '  Messiker  is  a  friend  to  the  white  chief/  said  the  red-man; 
'  he  comes  from  the  great  wigwam.' 

"  '  And  what  news  does  my  brother  bring  ?' 

"  '  He  comes  to  tell  the  brave  that  his  white  rose  is  fading.' 

"  '  Ah !  what  new  trial  is  this !'  said  the  traveller,  in  a  fal 
tering  voice,  his  thoughts  flying  back  to  the  weeping  girl  he 
had  left  on  the  banks  of  the  Rappahannoc.  But  he  seemed 
to  grow  reassured,  when,  after  closely  questioning  the  messen 
ger,  he  was  led  to  doubt  the  truth  of  his  alarming  reports. 

"'Perhaps,'  ran  his  thought,  'the  fellow  is  but  an  emissary 
of  St.  Pierre,  seeking  to  defeat  or  to  delay  my  mission.  My 
poor  Martha !  Would  that  I  could  return  to  her !  But  no, 
that  may  not  be ;  duty  calls  me,  and  I  must,  at  all  sacrifice, 
obey,  trusting  to  heaven  to  protect  her  and  me ;'  and,  recover 
ing  his  habitual  grave  composure,  the  Man  of  Duty,  conquering 


THE  ALLEGHANY;  OR,  THE  MAN  OF  DUTY.      73 

this  new  temptation,  dismissed  the  pretended  envoy,  and  sought 
new  strength  in  the  sure  panacea  of  sleep. 

"  When  our  hero  mentioned  the  visit  of  Messiker  to  his 
trusty  companion,  Grist,  as  the  party  pursued  their  rude  way 
through  the  forest  on  the  following  day,  old  Christopher  saw 
nothing  to  fear  in  his  story  beyond  the  intimation  which  he 
thought  it  gave  that,,  even  here,  their  movements  were  watched 
by  their  vigilant  foes. 

"  I  need  not  pause  to  describe  our  adventurer's  weary  days 
of  painful  travel,  his  privations  and  sufferings  in  the  wild 
winter  forests,  'and  his  continual  exposure  to  the  cruelty  and 
treachery  of  the  savage  red-men,  since  all  these  things  are 
matters  of  written  history ;  no  less,  the  successful  assembling 
of  the  Indian  chieftains,  and  the  conferences  which  secured 
their  promised  friendship. 

"  Suffice  it  to  say,  that,  emboldened  and  sustained  by  his 
convictions  of  duty,  our  hero  gallantly  braved  and  conquered 
every  obstacle  and  danger  until  his  journey  was  accomplished, 
and  he  found  himself  the  honoured  guest  of  the  redoubtable 
Monsieur  le  Gardeur  de  St.  Pierre,  knight  of  the  Order  of  St. 
Louis,  and  commandant  of  his  French  Majesty's  forces  on  the 
Ohio. 

"  The  kind  hospitality  and  the  refined  social  pleasures  of 
Fort  Le  Boeuf,  were  as  grateful  to  our  travellers  as  they  were 
unexpected  in  this  remote  and  wild  region.  Monsieur  de  St. 
Pierre  and  his  family  had  brought  with  them  into  the  wilder 
ness  all  the  graces  of  their  native  land — graces  attractive  enough 
in  their  ordinary  influence,  but  dangerously  seductive  when  ex 
erted  to  aid  the  accomplishment  of  a  much-desired  end. 

"  But  all  the  pleasures  of  the  commandant's  household,  his 
own  solicitous  regard,  and  the  flattering  persuasions  of  the 
ladies,  were  powerless  to  detain  our  ambassador  an  instant  from 
the  path  which  his  sense  of  duty  marked  out.  His  mission 


74  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

achieved,  lie  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  all  solicitations  to  protract 
his  stay,  and  to  all  the  representations  of  the  increased  dan 
gers  of  a  return  through  the  forests.  That  these  representa 
tions  were  not  unfounded  in  truth,  he  was  persuaded  by  the 
unsatisfactory  result  of  his  mission,  and  the  evident  desire  of 
the  commandant  to  delay  and  obstruct  his  return.  This  con 
viction  made  him  more  eager  to  execute  his  task. 

"  Bidding  adieu  to  his  host,  in  all  apparent  kindness  and 
confidence,  he  sallied  forth  again  under  his  banner  of  duty  to 
brave  the  peril  of  the  woods  and  the  snares  of  hidden  foes. 
From  both,  as  from  a  thousand  dangers  in  after  life,  he  was 
so  marvellously  shielded,  that  the  superstitious  foresters  learned 
to  look  upon  him  as  under  the  special  protection  and  love  of 
the  Great  Spirit. 

"  It  was  on  this  returning  voyage  that  the  famous  passage 
of  the  Alleghany,  depicted  in  our  sketch,  was  achieved.  To 
facilitate  their  progress,  the  party  had  separated,  some  taking 
charge  of  the  horses  and  baggage,  and  our  hero,  with  his 
staunch  guide,  Kit,  courageously  venturing  into  the  forest  alone. 
Coming  to  the  waters  of  the  Alleghany  at  night,  their  expec 
tation  of  crossing  readily  on  the  ice  was  sadly  disappointed  on 
finding  the  river  frozen  but  a  few  feet  beyond  the  shores.  In 
the  emergency,  they  set  about  constructing  a  raft,  on  which 
frail  craft  they  trusted  themselves  and  their  fortunes,  with  the 
resolution  of  all  the  Caesars,  to  the  angry  current.  But  the 
current,  like  everything  else,  was  resolved  to  thwart  their  pur 
pose,  and,  in  the  effort  to  stem  its  strength,  they  were  plunged 
into  the  rapid  floods.  "With  desperate  struggles,  they  at  length 
reached  a  rocky  island  in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  where,  in 
cold  and  darkness,  they  patiently  awaited  the  dawn,  when  they 
were  happily  enabled  to  reach  the  opposite  bank,  on  the  ice 
which  the  severe  frost  of  the  night  had  formed. 

"  In  the  midst  of  such   trials   and   perils,  our  hero   accom- 


THE  ALLEGHANY;  OK,  THE  MAN  OF  DUTY.      75 

plished  his  arduous  mission  across  the  Alleghanies,  and  gave 
the  first  proof  to  the  world  of  that  unconquerable  strength  and 
integrity  of  character,  that  self-sacrificing  love  of  right  and  res 
pect  for  duty,  which  afterwards,  in  more  lofty  displays,  so  often 
and  so  greatly  served  the  happiness  and  glory  of  his  country, 
and  which  has  embalmed  his  name  as  a  blessing  in  the  ever 
lasting  memory  of  mankind. 

"  In  conclusion,"  resumed  Mr.  Deepredde,  "  I  will,  instead 
of  stealing  your  time  with  the  idle  story  of  our  hero's  happy 
return  to  "Williamsburg,  and  the  honours  showered  upon  him 
by  the  government  and  the  people " 

"  To  say  nothing,"  interrupted  Mr.  Flakewhite,  "  about  the 
loving  greeting  from  certain  tearful  eyes,  which  were  promis 
ing  enough  at  the  beginning  of  your  story,  but  have  been  too 
much  overlooked  since " 

"  All  that,"  continued  the  chairman,  "  can  be  more  easily 
imagined  than  described — at  least  by  my  prosaic  tongue — so,  as 
I  was  saying,  when  the  'tearful  eyes'  put  me  out,  I  will  simply 
add  a  word  of  historic  moral,  in  telling  you  that  this  memora 
ble  expedition,  which  I  have  described  to  you  in  such  light 
style,  united  the  colonies  in  that  friendly  union  which  soon 
successfully  resisted  the  border  encroachments  of  the  French 
power,  and  years  afterwards  grew  into  the  strength  which  re 
leased  them  from  the  oppressive  weight  of  foreign  rule.  Ban 
croft — hand  me  that  volume  of  Bancroft,  my  dear  Asphaltum 
— speaking  of  the  border  war  which  immediately  followed  the 
Alleghany  expedition,  tells  us  that  the  first  gun  then  fired  at 
the  command  of  Washington  kindled  the  world  into  a  flame. 
'  It  was,'  he  writes,  ( the  signal  for  the  first  great  war  of  Ee volu 
tion.  There  in  the  Western  forest  began  the  battle  which  was 
to  banish  from  the  soil  and  neighbourhood  of  our  Eepublic  the 
institutions  of  the  middle  age,  and  to  inflict  on  them  fatal 
wounds  throughout  the  continent  of  Europe.  In  repelling 


76  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

France  from  the  basin  of  the  Ohio,  Washington  broke  the 
repose  of  mankind,  and  waked  a  struggle  which  could  admit 
of  a  truce  only  when  the  ancient  bulwarks  of  Catholic  legiti 
macy  were  thrown  down.'  That's  all,  gentlemen,"  added  the 
chairman,  closing  his  book  and  his  lips  at  the  same  time. 


"  Deepredde  might  have  made  his  story  more  interesting," 
said  Mr.  Flakewhite,  "and  at  the  same  time  might  have  added 
a  higher  light  to  the  picture  of  his  hero's  stoical  virtue  in  with 
drawing  so  doggedly  from  the  social  pleasures  of  Monsieur  de 
St.  Pierre's  family,  if  he  had  told  us  something  of  the  bewitch 
ing  smiles  of  the  old  commandant's  daughter,  the  beautiful 
Gabrielle." 

"  Gabrielle  de  St.  Pierre,"  said  the  astounded  chairman. 
"  Upon  my  word,  I  did  not  know  that  the  commandant  had  a 
daughter.  I  do  not  recollect  ever  to  have  seen  her  name  in 
Bancroft,  or  Hildreth,  or " 

"Perhaps  not;  but  you  may  read  it,  by  and  by,  in  'Flake- 
white,'  for  I  am  going  to  put  on  record  the  true  and  touching 
history  of  the  belle  of  Le  Boeuf — 


f« 
urn. 


"  We  will  begin,  gentlemen,  by  drinking  to  the  memory 
of  the  fair  Gabrielle.  If  she  had  lived  at  the  present  day, 
when  books  occupy  so  much  of  the  time  of  her  sex,  she  might 
have  been  called  a  strong-minded  woman — living  when  she  did, 
she  was  simply  a  clear-headed,  brave-hearted  girl,  intensely 
despising  the  frivolous  life  to  which  the  habits  and  conventions 
of  French  society  condemned  her,  and  fearlessly  asserting  and 


GABRIELLE   DE   ST.   PIERRE.  77 

maintaining  her  right  to  think  and  act  as  she  herself  best 
pleased. 

"  Thus  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  when  her  indulgent 
papa  was  ordered  to  breathe  the  pure  and  free  airs  of  the 
Western  forest,  her  filial  affection  and  her  love  of  liberty 
made  her  the  determined  partner  of  his  exile — not  to  men 
tion  the  strong  desire  to  get  away  from,  the  annoying  devotions 
of  a  certain  enamoured  cousin,  whom  she  abominated  the  more 
intensely  because  her  friends  were  determined  to  force  him 
upon  her.  However  much  she  might  have  loved  him  if  left 
to  herself— for  he  was  a  very  good  sort  of  fellow — she  now 
perfectly  detested  the  very  sight  of  him. 

"  This  change  of  scene  and  circumstance  happened  at  the  best 
possible  moment  for  a  temperament  like  Mademoiselle  Grabrielle's : 
at  a  moment  when  she  was  best  prepared  to  profit  by  all  its 
good  influences,  and  to  escape  its  dangers;  not  before  she  had 
seen  and  learned  enough  of  the  graces  and  refinements  of  pol 
ished  life,  to  keep  her  above  the  rude  habits  and  manners  of 
the  uncultured  foresters,  and  just  in  time  to  turn  the  strong 
imaginative  and  romantic  tendency  of  her  nature  from  an  idle 
and  corroding  sentimentalism,  into  a  deep  and  pure  current 
of  healthy  poetic  feeling.  Here,  in  the  solemn  ministrations  of 
God's  first  temples — the  grand  primeval  forests — and  amidst  the 
dangers  and  privations  with  which  she  had  to  contend,  she 
grew  up  a  thoughtful  and  truthful  spirit,  with  earnest  and 
daring  purpose ;  while  a  longer  breathing  of  the  poisoned  and 
demoralizing  atmosphere  of  the  court  of  Louis,  might  have  de 
graded  her  into  a  reckless  and  unscrupulous  woman  of  fashion 
and  intrigue. 

"  The  character  of  our  heroine  was  thus  happily  developing 
at  the  moment  our  story  opens. 

"  The  gathering  shades  of  night  were  deepening  the  spirit 
of  quiet  which  always  surrounded  the  little  fortress  of  Le  Boeuf, 


78  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

on  the  wild  banks  of  the  far-off  Ohio,  as  the  eyes  of  a  small 
party  of  way-worn  and  weary  wanderers  grew  bright  with  hope 
at  the  first  glimpse  of  its  hospitable  walls. 

"  '  There,'  said  an  old  veteran,  who  appeared  to  be  the  guide 
of  the  party,  'is  the  lion's  den.  You  must  have  a  care  of  his 
paws,  my  lads.' 

"  '  Never  fear,  good  Christopher,'  replied  the  leader  of  the 
group,  a  tall,  handsome  youth,  who  seemed  but  little  given 
himself  to  fear,  'the  watchful  Providence  which  has  brought 
us  thus  far  through  all  the  dangers  of  the  wilderness  will 
protect  us  to  the  end.' 

"  The  faith  of  the  speaker  proved,  even  as  the  words  fell 
from  his  lips,  to  be  well  grounded.  An  arrow,  aimed  at  him 
•by  a  stealthy  hand,  not  before  seen  in  the  dusky  recesses  of 
the  woods,  was  suddenly  and  opportunely  struck  aside,  and  the 
momentary  apparition  of  a  lurking  foe  was  followed  by  the 
strange  appearance  of  a  young  and  beautiful  girl.  So  unex 
pectedly  did  she  come,  and  so  quickly  disappear,  pausing  only 
to  bestow  a  reproving  look  and  word  upon  the  treacherous 
savage,  that  our  travellers  scarcely  knew  whether  to  consider 
her  a  real  visitant,  or  a  pleasing  deceit  of  their  fancies. 

" '  Another  lucky  escape,  my  dear  George,'  said  young  Fair 
fax.  '  Truly,  heaven  seems  to  love  you,  sending  down  its  angels 
in  propria  person®  for  your  protection.  Who  can  the  dear 
fairy  be  ?' 

"  '  Some  member  of  the  Governor's  household,  I  suppose,' 
said  the  leader,  '  whom  he  has  suffered  to  grow  wild  in  this 
untamed  land.' 

" '  She  has,  at  least,  learned  to  be  generous  and  daring,' 
continued  Fairfax.  '  You  owe  her  your  life,  and  if  you  were 
not  already  pledged  to  the  fair  Ma ' 

" '  Nonsense,  Harry !  T  thank  the  girl  heartily,  but  I  have 
graver  thoughts  to  occupy  my  mind  than  the  silly  whispers  of 


GABRIELLE  DE   ST.   PIERRE.  79 

every  passing  romance.  I  leave  it  to  you,  better  fitted  for  such 
things,  to  seek  amusement  and  pleasure  in  following  up  the 
adventure.' 

"  '  Thank  you.  If  the  girl  has  wit  and  wisdom  equal  to 
her  bravery  and  beauty,  I  shall  not,  I  promise  you,  be  in  any 
great  haste  to  recross  the  rugged  Alleghanies.  While  you  are 
discussing  the  subject  of  your  belligerent  mission  with  the  com 
mandant  of  Le  Boeuf  yonder,  and  persuading  him  that  it  will 
be  better  for  his  political  health  to  pull  up  stakes  and  remove 
with  his  people  far  away  from  the  Ohio,  and  the  vicinage  of 
our  good  Governor  Dinwiddie,  I  may  find  it  agreeable  to  make 
war  upon  the  heart  of  this  mountain  sprite.' 

"  '  Suppose,  Harry,'  answered  his  friend,  laughing,  '  suppose 
you  carry  her  back  with  us,  as  a  hostage  for  the  faith  of  these 
slippery  Frenchmen !' 

"  With  such  cheerful  chat  and  jest,  the  party  at  length 
passed  the  sentinels  and  entered  the  precincts  of  the  lonely 
fort,  where  they  were  cordially  greeted  by  the  expectant  host, 
Monsieur  le  Gardeur  de  St.  Pierre. 

"  '  I  am  happy,  gentlemen,'  said  the  courteous  Frenchman, 
'  to  eongratulate  you  upon  the  safe  termination  of  your  fati 
guing  and  hazardous  journey,  and  to  welcome  you  to  my 
humble  quarters,  which  I  trust  will  long  be  cheered  by  the 
pleasures  of  your  society.  I  hope  you  bring  me  good  news 
from  Virginia,  Mr.  Washington,  and  pleasant  messages  from 
your  excellent  Governor,  my  old  friend,  Dinwiddie ;  your 
young  companion ' 

" '  Mr.  Fairfax,'  interrupted  our  ambassador,  as  he  introduced 
his  colleague. 

"  '  Must  forget  the  privations  of  the  forest  as  much  as  pos 
sible  in  such  poor  pleasures  as  he  may  be  able  to  find  in 
our  rough  home.  Ah!  my  old  friend  Gist,  too.  I  am  glad  to 
shake  your  hardy  honest  hand  once  more  !  But  pardon  me,  I 


80  THE   EOMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

must  present  you  to  the  ladies,'  lie  continued,  summoning  an 
attendant. 

" '  Tell  Madame  that  our  expected  guests  have  arrived,  and 
send  Mademoiselle  Gabrielle  to  me,  if  she  has  returned  to  the 
Fort.  My  wild  daughter,  gentlemen,  will  give  you  a  cordial 
welcome,  for  she  sees  but  too  little  society  suited  to  her  station 
and  education.  It  is  surprising  that  you  should  not  already 
have  made  her  acquaintance.  Few  things  happen  here  of  which 
she  is  not  the  first  informed,  and  such  an  unusual  event  as 
your  approach ' 

" '  Has  not,  I  dare  say,  escaped  her  vigilant  notice,'  said 
"Washington,  as  he  interrupted  the  commandant  with  an  account 
of  the  good  service  done  him  by  the  mysterious  fairy  of  the 
forest. 

"  '  Ha,  ha !  my  mad  Gabrielle,  unquestionably  !  You  will 
find  her  a  lawless  creature,  gentlemen,  but  still  rich  in  all  the 
softest  traits  of  woman's  nature — buried  somewhat,  perhaps,  but 
not  lost  under  the  rough  habits  of  her  wild  life.  It  is  singular 
what  an  influence  the  united  strength  and  delicatesse  of  her 
character  have  given  her  over  our  jealous  and  intractable  Indian 
neighbours.  She  is  a  greater  protection  to  our  settlement  here 
than  all  my  garrison,  and  I  could  give  you  no  passport  through 
the  savage  tribes,  for  leagues  around,  half  so  authoritative  as 
her  simple  name.  But  here  she  comes.' 

"  As  Gabrielle  entered,  with  an  ease  and  grace  not  surpassed 
by  what  our  travellers  had  already  learned  of  her  courage,  they 
hastened  to  express  their  thanks  for  her  late  good  offices,  which 
her  hasty  retreat  had  prevented  their  making  at  the  time. 

"  '  Indeed,  gentlemen,'  answered  the  mischievous  girl,  '  you 
owe  me  no  thanks ;  but  you  must  be  more  heedful  of  your 
path,  or  your  brave  Governor  in  Williamsburg  may  lose  some 
ornaments  to  his  ball-room.' 

"'Nay,  Mademoiselle,'  said  Fairfax,  half  amused,  half  angry, 


GABRIELLE   DE   ST.    PIERRE.  81 

'  we  are  perhaps  not  as  daring  and  dauntless  foresters  as  your 
fair  ladyship,  but  we  have  been  reared,  believe  me,  to  better 
ends  than  simply  to  figure  in  a  minuet.' 

"  '  You  are  happy,'  continued  the  laughing  Gabrielle,  '  in 
living  in  a  land  and  among  scenes  which  develop  a  stronger 
and  truer  manhood  than  we  often  find  in  the  worn-out  life  of 
our  old  civilization ;  though  my  honoured  father  does  not  agree 
with  me  on  this  point.' 

" '  But  do  you  not,  Mademoiselle,  sometimes  grow  weary 
of  your  isolated  life  here,  and  sigh  for  the  gay  pleasures  of 
your  native  Paris,  which  your  youth  and  wit  and  beauty  so 
admirably  fit  you  to  enjoy  ?' 

"'Nay,  nay,  my  youth  and  beauty  are  much  better  ex 
pended  here,  where  they  are  ever  preserved  and  renewed  by 
healthful  occupation  and  innocent  thought.  The  hills  and  val 
leys  and  waters  repay  my  wit  with  much  more  instructive  and 
agreeable  talk  than  the  silly  tattle  of  the  drawing-room.  The 
song  of  the  birds  is  pleasanter  to  me  than  the  false  flatteries 
of  heartless  admirers,  and  the  fragrance  of  the  pure  mountain 
air  more  grateful  than  the  perfume  of  lovers'  sighs.  Besides, 
I  have  still  sufficient  companionship  in  the  love  of  my  parents 
and  friends;  and  books  and  papers  teach  me  all  the  best  thought 
of  the  world,  and  show  me  its  most  brilliant  spectacles,  while 
I  am  relieved  from  the  fatigue  of  walking  in  the  painful  pro 
cession.' 

"  More  than  once,  and  in  various  ways,  did  Gabrielle,  as 
the  days  passed  on,  give  expression  to  this  haughty  spirit  of 
contempt  for  the  wonted  pleasures  and  passions  of  her  sex ; 
and  yet,  despite  her  exalted  philosophy,  she  lingered,  with  each 
successive  hour,  longer  and  longer  in  the  society  of  her  new 
friends,  seldom,  indeed,  following  her  old  life  in  the  woods, 
except  when  they  accompanied  her. 

"  Harry  Fairfax  seemed  to  have  kept  his  threat  to  make 
6 


82  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

war  upon  the  redoubtable  heart  of  the  mountain  maid ;  for  while 
his  companion  was  indefatigably  prosecuting  the  ends  of  his 
mission,  he  was  following  the  deer  with  her  over  hill  and  dale, 
or  strolling  by  her  side  along  the  quiet  margin  of  the  great 
river.  Whatever  may  have  been  the  themes  of  their  discourse 
at  such  moments,  Gabrielle  was  as  gay  and  intractable  as  ever 
in  the  hearing  and  presence  of  others. 

"  So  precisely  was  her  manner  what  it  had  always  been, 
that  none  could  suspect  her  heart  and  fancy  to  be  less  free 
than  before.  Harry  himself,  indeed,  seemed  uncertain  whether 
any  change  had  come  over  the  spirit  of  her  dream ;  and  this 
uncertainty  did  not,  from  some  cause  or  other,  increase  the 
gaiety  of  his  humour. 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  gave  him  a  most  perceptible  uneasi 
ness  of  feeling,  which  grew  every  moment  as  the  time  for  the 
departure  of  the  expedition  drew  nigh.  The  truth  is,  he  had 
given  half  his  heart  to  the  fair  mountaineer  at  their  first  inter 
view,  and  the  ingenuous  frankness  of  her  manner,  which  made 
no  secret  of  her  delight  in  his  companionship,  had  soon  stolen 
the  rest. 

"  But  whether  she  had  given  him  anything  more  than 
friendly  and  sisterly  regard  in  return,  was  a  question  he  hesi 
tated  to  ask  even  himself.  There  was  always  so  much  of 
mad  badinage,  mischievous  satire,  laughing  irony,  and  inex 
plicable  contrariety  in  her  words,  that  he  found  it  utterly  im 
possible  to  read  the  real  nature  of  her  feelings.  Whenever  his 
own  speech  became  too  plain  an  index  of  his  heart,  she  seemed 
innocently  unconscious  of  its  drift,  or,  with  wonderful  ingenuity, 
misinterpreted  it,  or  wickedly  turned  the  talk  into  some  oppo 
site  and  most  outrageously  irrelevant  current.  At  such,  to  poor 
Harry  Fairfax,  solemn  moments,  she  would,  too,  often  affect 
a  sighing  remembrance  of  the  devoted  cousin,  whose  breaking 
heart  she  had  so  rashly  left  in  Paris,  launching  out  with  ex- 


GABRIELLE  DE    ST.   PIERRE.  83 

travagant  eulogiums  of  his  graces  and  gifts,  which  were  always 
precisely  the  very  graces  and  gifts  which  of  all  others  she 
admired  in  a  man;  regretting  her  cruel  conduct  towards  him, 
and  wishing  that  opportunity  were  still  left  her  to  repair  her 
errors  ;  half  resolved  to  leave  the  woods  and  return  to  old 
scenes  and  loves  in  France,  and  then  gaily  anticipating  her 
afflicted  cousin's  threatened  visit  to  America,  and,  worst  of  all, 
kindly  proposing  to  read  to  Harry  some  of  her  old  admirer's 
exquisite  letters. 

"  All  this  was  deplorably  heart-rending  to  our  tortured 
traveller,  but  his  last  hour  approached,  and,  nerving  himself 
to  the  momentous  trial,  he  determined  to  bring  affairs  to  a 
crisis  and  solve  all  his  crushing  doubts. 

"  Unhappily,  the  solution  left  him  not  only  a  wiser,  but  a 
sadder  man,  as  the  closing  words  of  a  long  and  earnest  dia 
logue,  in  the  moonlight  which  fell  upon  the  ramparts  of  the 
lonely  fort,  on  the  eve  of  their  separation,  may  show. 

"  This  dialogue,  which  on  the  part  of  the  lady  had  at  first 
been  most  wickedly  and  vexingly  bantering,  grew,  at  length, 
grave  and  serious  when  the  final  moment  of  adieu  arrived. 

"  '  Have  I  then  so  bitterly  deceived  myself,  and  must  our 
parting  be  forever?'  said  Fairfax,  despairingly. 

" '  That  must  be  as  heaven  wills.  I  am  not  insensible  to  the 
high  compliment  you  bestow  upon  me;  I  do  not  despise  your 
love ;  but,  even  did  I  return  it,  I  should  still  mistrust  my  own 
heart.  We  have  been  thrown  together  under  such  peculiar  cir 
cumstances — circumstances  so  admirably  suited  to  bring  out  all 
the  sentiment  and  romance  of  our  nature — that  it  would  be  rash 
to  trust  our  present  feelings.  Did  I  love  you  now,  I  might 
forget  you  in  other  scenes ;  as  you,  doubtless,  will  think  no 
more  of  the  rude  mountain  girl  when  you  fall  again  under  the 
influence  of  brighter  eyes.' 

"  '  I   can   never  forget  you,  GTabrielle ;    so   entirely  does   the 


84  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

whole  current  of  my  being  set  towards  you,  that  no  power  can 
turn  it  aside !' 

"  '  Well,  well,  go  now,  and  if  we  should  meet  again — years 
hence — and  you  should  still  remember  me,  return  me  this 
token,'  said  Gabrielle,  taking  from  her  finger  a  ring  rudely 
sculptured  by  some  untaught  genius.  It  was  given  to  me  by 
a  young  chief,  whose  life  I  saved,  and  it  will  be  useful  to  you 
in  your  wanderings  among  the  red-men  of  this  region,,  who  all 
know  and  obey  Gabrielle  de  St.  Pierre.' 

"''And  this,'  said  Fairfax,  'as  he  kissed  the  ring  and  offered 
her  another  in  return.  '  This  gift  from  my  mother — wear  it, 
as  a  token  of ' 

" '  Of  your  pleasant  visit,'  added  Gabrielle  in  her  old  gay 
manner,  as  others  came  at  that  instant  within  hearing. 


"  When  our  travellers  were  again  in  their  own  home, 
the  altered  manner  of  Harry  Fairfax  excited  no  little  curi 
osity  among  his  young  companions  to  learn  more  minute 
particulars  of  the  expedition  to  Le  Boeuf  than  were  given  in 
the  official  reports.  More  especially  were  they  interested  in  the 
mysterious  history  of  the  ugly  looking  ring  which  he  never 
ceased  to  wear  and  to  contemplate  with  most  devoted  and  rapt 
vision. 

"  Washington,  when  appealed  to  on  the  subject,  laughingly 
ascribed  the  change  of  his  friend's  humour  to  ill  health — the 
results  of  a  violent  cold  caught  in  the  adventurous  passage  of 
the  mighty  floods  of  the  Alleghany;  and  the  ring,  he  gravely 
hinted,  concerned  certain  secret  results  of  their  diplomacy  which 
the  interests  of  the  colony  imperiously  required  should  not  for 
the  present  be  divulged.  Even  the  gentle  Martha — so  touch- 
ingly  presented  to  us  in  Mr.  Deepredde's  romantic  drama  of 


GABRIELLE   DE   ST.    PIERRE.  85 

the   '  Man  of  Duty ' — failed  to  win  from  the  wily  diplomat  any 
more  explicit  confidence. 

"  Altogether,  there  was  no  surprise  whatever  felt  at  the 
extraordinary  interest  which  Fairfax  took  in  the  military  ex 
peditions  which  the  late  mission  set  on  foot — expeditions  to 
effect  by  force  of  arms  that  expulsion  of  the  encroaching  French 
from  the  banks  of  the  Ohio  which  Washington  had  failed  to 
accomplish  by  negotiation. 

"  At  length,  in  one  of  these  sorties — which  particular  one, 
and  its  exact  history,  our  worthy  chairman  will  tell  you — our 
hero  held  a  command,  to  which  he  did  high  honour  by  his 
bravery  and  forbearance  through  the  hot  struggles  of  a  change 
ful  day. 

"Night  was  coming  on  apace,  and  the  fortunes  of  the  fight 
were  against  the  colonists ;  yet  Harry  Fairfax  still  battled  man 
fully  at  the  head  of  his  gallant  troops. 

"It  might  have  been  the  excitement  of  the  hour  and  the 
passion  of  the  soldier,  or  the  depth  of  his  patriotism,  which 
nerved  his  arm  and  strung  his  heart ;  yet  the  close  observer 
— had  there  been  such  an  one — would  perhaps  have  suspected 
some  other  impulse  to  move  him,  on  seeing  his  daring  always 
exalted  whenever  his  eye  rested  upon  a  young  officer  in  the 
opposite  ranks,  whose  sole  business,  as  he  kept  aloof  from  the 
general  conflict,  seemed,  singularly  enough,  to  be,  not  to  conquer, 
but  to  protect,  his  foe ;  for  more  than  once  had  he,  by  the 
exertion  of  some  secret  power,  stayed  the  arm  and  weapon 
raised  against  him.  Possibly  he  was  mortified  at  this  gratuitous 
service  on  the  part  of  the  stranger 

"  By  and  by  the  growing  darkness  put  a  stop  to  the  con 
test,  and  hid  his  mysterious  protector  from  our  hero's  sight. 
As  he  was  about  to  retire  from  the  bloody  field  he  turned 
back  for  an  instant  at  the  sound  of  a  thrilling  cry  for  quarter, 
and  angrily  stayed  the  brutal  passions  of  his  men  who  were 


86  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

about  to  finish  the  unhappy  captive.  His  surprise  was  great 
when,  bending  over  the  prostrate  soldier,  he  recognized  the 
person  of  his  unknown  protector.  But  yet  greater  was  his 
astonishment,  and  new  and  deep  his  emotions,  when  a  nearer 
glance  showed  him  the  ring  of  love  with  which  he  had  parted 
from  Gabrielle  de  St.  Pierre. 

"  '  Alas  1  my  fancy  told  me  so !'  he  said  abstractedly.  '  So 
like  herself!  Yes,  it  must  be  he!  that — that — too  happy  cousin! 
And  he  has  Come  at  last,  and,  as  I  feared,  stolen  away  the 
love  of  Gabrielle!  What  right  has  he  to  be  generous  to  me? 
He's  my  foe — my  mortal,  deadly  foe — let  him  die !'  continued 
the  wretched  lover,  as  he  madly  grasped  his  sword. 

"  '  No,  no !  He  shall  live  !  I  will  not  be  such  a  wretch  I 
He  shall  live,  for  her  sake ;'  and  he  ordered  the  wounded  man 
to  be  carefully  borne  to  his  tent.  No  particular  care,  however, 
was  needed,  since  scarcely  were  they  arrived  at  Fairfax's  quar 
ters  before  the  youth  recovered  his  scattered  senses,  and  proved 
to  be  unhurt,  beyond  the  swoon  which  had  followed  a  slight 
contusion  received  in  falling  from  his  horse. 

"When  fully  aware  of  the  position  of  things  around  him, 
the  captive  seemed  no  longer  interested  in  our  hero.  His 
thoughts  took  another  direction,  and  other  objects. 

"'My  father — my  father!  let  me  seek  him!'  he  cried. 

"  '  Of  whom  do  you  speak  ?'  asked  Fairfax. 

" c  Of  my  poor  father,  Monsieur  de  St.  Pierre.' 

"  '  Monsieur  de  St.  Pierre  !'  echoed  our  hero.  '  St.  Pierre — 
your  father?' 

"  '  Yes — no,  .not  my  father — my — let  me  go  !  Ah  !  heaven 
grant  that  his  life  be  safe !' 

"  '  Yes,  yes,'  muttered  Fairfax,  '  I  comprehend  it  all  now : 
"his  father — the  father  of  Gabrielle !' 

"  Without  another  word,  Harry  and  his  prisoner  returned 
to  the  now  deserted  field,  and,  by  the  faint  light  of  the  newly- 


GABRIELLE   DE   ST.    PIERRE.  87 

risen  moon,  sought  in  silence  for  the  body  of  the  old  com 
mandant.  Their  pious  labour  was  not  long  unrewarded.  They 
found  the  object  of  their  search,  still  living,  but  too  plainly, 
alas !  mortally  wounded. 

"  '  O  my  father !'  sobbed  the  prisoner,  as  he  cast  his  arms 
wildly  about  the  neck  of  the  old  soldier. 

"  '  Thank  God.'  gasped  the  dying  man,  '  that  you  are  safe. 
Gabrielle — my  child  !' 

"  '  Gabrielle  !'  exclaimed  the  bewildered  Fairfax.  '  Are  you 
indeed  Gabrielle  ?'  And  even  in  the  midst  of  this  solemn  scene, 
he  was  not  too  unselfish  to  look  with  more  pleasure  than  before 
upon  his  mother's  ring  on  the  finger  of  his  captive. 

"'Who,  who  is  with  you,  my  child?  My  sight  is  dim,  and 
I  cannot  see  him ;  but  his  voice — it  is  familiar  to  me !  Who 
is  he?' 

"  '  It  is  he,  father  !' 

"  '  He  ?' 

"  '  Yes,  he — Harry — Harry  Fairfax,  father  !' 

"  '  Ha  !  Fairfax  !     Does  he  love  my  poor  daughter  ?' 

"  Harry  took  the  hand  of  Gabrielle,  and  they  knelt  together 
at  the  old  man's  feet. 

"  '  Heaven  bless  you,  my  children !  I  have  forgiven  you, 
Harry,  for  wishing  to  take  away  my  home,  but  never  for  rob 
bing  me  of  my  daughter's  heart  and  happiness.  You  took  both 
with  you  when  you  left  Le  Boeuf.  It  has  been  but  a  sad 
place  ever  since.  She  has  always  loved  you,  and  to-day  has 
risked  her  life,  in  the  maddest  way,  and  despite  my  commands, 
to  protect  you.' 

"  '  And  you,  too,  father.' 

"  '  Yes,  yes !  You  have  always  been,  in  all  your  wilful  ness 
and  folly,  a  dutiful  and  loving  daughter,  and  you  will  be — a 
good — and  truthful — wife  !' 


88  THE  ROMANCE  OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

"  When  the  old  soldier  slept  quietly  in  his  grave,  Fairfax 
conducted  his  gentle  prisoner  to  his  own  home,  where  he  placed 
her  under  the  affectionate  surveillance  of  the  tender  Martha, 
beloved,  as  Mr.  Deepredde  has  intimated  to  us,  by  his  dear 
friend  and  travelling  companion,  Washington.  In  process  of 
time  he  accompanied  her  on  a  visit  to  her  childhood's  home, 
where  they  passed  a  happy  month  under  the  roof  of  that 
mischief-making  cousin  several  times  referred  to  in  my  narra 
tive,  and  at  this  period  a  joyous  father  of  an  interesting  family. 
The  gay  pleasures  of  the  French  capital  did  not,  however, 
obliterate  the  loving  remembrance  of  their  forest-home  in  the 
New  World,  to  which  they  soon  returned,  and  where  they  lived 
in  peace  and  prosperity,  as  all  virtuous  heroes  and  heroines 
of  romance  ought  to  do. 

"When  the  Revolution  broke  out,  years  afterwards,  Gabri- 
elle,  then  a  grave  matron,  offered  her  sons  as  a  willing  sacrifice 
upon  the  altars  of  that  Freedom  she  never  ceased  to  love." 


"  Have  you  got  entirely  through,  now  ?"  asked  Mr.  Ver- 
meille,  as  Flakewhite  relighted  his  cigar. 

"  Of  course  I  have.  Is  not  my  heroine  happily  married 
and  settled  with  a  whole  nursery  of  babies  at  her  heels !  What 
more  can  you  want?" 

"Nothing,  only  I  have  a  mind,  now  that  Blueblack  has 
given  us  a  peep  at  the  romance  of  the  colonial  life  of  Virginia, 
and  you  a  very  charming  imagining  of  her  wars  with  the 
French  and  Indians — I  have  a  mind,  I  say,  to  treat  the  com 
pany  to  a  little  glimpse  of  a  later  period,  by  telling  them 
something  of  the  history  of  Gabrielle  de  St.  Pierre,  as  one  of 
the  '  Mothers  of  the  Revolution.' " 

So  deeply  had  our  guests  grown  interested  in  the  character 
and  fortunes  of  the  fair  lady  of  Le  Boeuf,  that  a  general  accla- 


GABRIELLE   DE   ST.   PIERRE.  89 

mation  of  assent  followed  this  proposition ;  when  Mr.  Deepredde 
reminded  them  that  the  hour  had  grown  so  late,  that  the  story 
could  not  be  pursued  longer  at  that  time. 

It  can  be  resumed,  we  added,  at  our  next  meeting.  To  be 
sure,  our  field  of  study  will  then  be  transferred  to  a  point  yet 
further  southward;  but,  as  Virginia  is  a  kindred  theme,  we  may 
tarry  there  long  enough  to  pay  our  brief  respects  to  Mademoi 
selle  Grabrielle. 

Satisfied  with  this  compromise  of  the  matter,  the  company 
dispersed. 


CHAPTER   T. 

u  ASPHALTUM,  my  dear  boy,  you  must  excuse  my  fear  that 
your  undue  love  of  the  past  and  the  venerable  warps  your 
impressions  and  estimate-  of  the  new  and  the  present.  Your 
sight  is  dimmed  by  the  accumulated  fogs  of  the  dark  old 
centuries  into  which  you  are  everlastingly  peering.  I  cannot 
but  think  that  you  look  falsely,  when  you  look  despondingly, 
upon  the  condition  and  prospects  of  American  art." 

"  If  I  see  around  me,"  answered  Mr.  Asphaltum,  "  nothing 
but  hopeless  chaos  after  contemplating  the  glories  of  past  tri 
umphs,  it  is  only  as  one's  sight  may  be  obscured  when  turning 
from  the  dazzling  light  of  the  sun ;  but  have  we  not  already 
said  enough  on  this  point,  considering  that  it  is  not  quite  ger- 
main  to  the  matter  in  hand?" 

"  There  you  are  again  strangely  in  error.  What  can  be 
more  relevant  to  our  theme — the  history,  the  poetry,  the  man 
ners,  and  the  scenery  of  our  country — than  the  prospects  of 
that  art  which,  of  all  others,  must  record,  illustrate,  and  per 
petuate  them  ?  Still,  important  as  is  its  relation  to  the  purpose 
of  these  reunions,  yet,  I  grant  you,  it  is  not  the  precise  subject 
itself,  and  I  will  but  remind  you  .before  we  pass  on  to  the  usual 


92  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

gossip  of  travel  and  fancy,  that  common  as  it  is  to  hear  the 
most  hopeless  lamentations  upon  the  lack  of  popular  taste  and 
popular  encouragement  of  Art,  very  brief  reflection  will  show 
us  that  if  due,  nay,  if  an  extraordinary  degree  of  appreciation 
of  the  Beautiful  has  not  been  already  developed — though  per 
chance  unperceived  at  present  in  the  overwhelming  brilliancy 
of  our  country's  progress  in  other  ways — still  we  may  be  sure 
that  the  germ  lies  in  the  heart  and  in  the  head  of  the  people, 
and  will  shoot  up  ere  long  with  a  rapidity  and  strength  the  very 
contrast  of  its  past  inertness.  We  have  not  to  look  to  the 
olden  patronage  of  the  religious  sentiment,  or  to  the  pomp  of 
arbitrary  rule  and  of  plethoric  wealth,  but  we  trust  to  a  surer 
and  nobler  support  promised  us  in  the  morale  of  our  people 
and  in  the  nature  of  our  social  and  political  institutions  :  a 
blessed  economy  which  scatters  knowledge  over  the  land  as 
the  tempests  spread  the  dust,  inducing  a  universal  intelligence 
and  taste  which  will  give  us  a  whole  nation  of  sincere  and  lov 
ing  patrons,  in  lieu  of  the  often  cold  and  selfish  support  of  the 
few  crowned  heads,  the  limited  aristocracy,  the  collectors,  and 
the  public  institutions,  which  alone  nurse  the  arts  in  other 
lands.  Our  governments,  perhaps  blameably  neglectful  of  Art, 
so  far  as  direct  support  goes,  are  yet  unconsciously  doing  it  the 
best  service  in  the  encouragement  of  popular  education.  This 
is  the  only  soil  in  which  it  can  thrive  and  maintain  its  proper 
dignity.  The  improving  popular  taste  will  elevate  Art,  and,  in 
reciprocation,  will  be  by  Art  refined  and  exalted.  With  these 
two  powers,  already  so  strong,  and  each  continually  adding  to 
the  other,  what  of  distinction  and  glory  in  Art  achievement  and 
in  Art  worship,  does  not  the  future  promise  us!  We,  the  art 
ists  of  America  must  work  as  every  thing  here  works — for  the 
people — and,  believe  me,  the  intelligence  and  taste  of  the  peo 
ple  will  reward  us.  Of  what  avail  had  been  the  patronage  of 
Pericles  without  the  Athenians'  innate  and  cultivated  perception 


THE  MOTHERS  OP  THE  REVOLUTION.  93 

of  the  Beautiful  ?  How  widely  different  the  result  under  dif 
ferent  influences :  how  great  the  contrast  between  Athens  and 
Sparta :  the  latter  placed  under  the  same  sky  as  the  former, 
having  the  same  language  and  religion,  the  same  mythic  tradi 
tions,  but,  wanting  her  intellectual  culture,  utterly  indifferent 
and  neglectful  of  Art." 

As  Mr.  Deepredde — for  it  is  the  worthy  chairman,  most 
martyred  reader,  who  has  been  preaching  so  long — paused  for 
breath  and  brandy — and  water,  we  mean — we  called  the  at 
tention  of  our  guests  to  some  of  the  trophies  of  our  own 
professional  rambles — mementoes  of  the  beautiful  Falls  of  the 
Tallulah  in  Georgia. 

"  Before  we  start,  however,"  said  Mr.  Megilp,  "  as  our  host 
desires,  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the  old  Pine  State,  we  must,  accord 
ing  to  agreement  at  our  last  meeting,  hear  the  continuation  of 
the  history  of  Gabrielle  de  St.  Pierre,  in  Mr.  Vermeille's  prom 
ised  story  of 


otto  of  the 

o  o 


"  The  skies  were  dark  above  them,"  said  Mr.  Vermeille,  at 
once  beginning  his  narrative  ;  "  storms  were  gathering  in  every 
direction,  and  the  gallant  hearts  of  the  people  of  Virginia,  like 
those  of  their  brethren  all  over  the  land,  were  dying  within 
them. 

"It  was  that  dark  hour  which  precedes  the  dawn  —  the 
agony  going  before  relief;  but  the  gloom  and  the  pain  only 
were  seen  and  felt,  not  the  hope  of  light  and  life. 

"In  a  small  shed,  the  miserable  wreck  of  a  once  elegant 
mansion,  which  had  been  ruthlessly  burned  by  the  cruel  min 
ions  of  King  George,  sat  a  woman  of  distinction  evidently, 


94  THE   ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

from  her  mien  and  air,  despite  the  marks  of  sorrow  on  her 
face,  and  of  poverty  around  her.  By  her  side  was  a  young 
girl  whose  lovely  features  suggested  the  charms  which  must 
once  have  belonged  to  the  elder  lady,  so  many  traces  of  a 
similar  beauty  did  her  countenance  yet  bear. 

"  '  Ah,  Gabrielle !'  said  the  matron,  as  her  young  companion 
looked  up,  after  a  long  and  thoughtful  reverie;  'you  are,  per 
haps,  all  that  is  now  left  to  me  of  my  many  beloved  treasures. 
Do  not  look  so  sad,  my  daughter :  misfortunes,  it  is  true,  over 
whelm  us  now,  but,  by  and  by,  God  will  send  the  sunshine 
again.  I  have  been  afflicted  before,  without  hope  in  the  world, 
and  yet  the  bright  days  have  come  back.  Bless  you,  my 
child !  I  love  to  see  you  smile  upon  me  thus.  It  recalls  so 
vividly  all  the  active  scenes  of  my  own  wild,  thoughtless  girl 
hood,  when  I  hunted  the  deer  among  the  Indians  in  the  forests 
of  the  Ohio :  when  I  first  met  your  father — don't  look  sorrowful 
again,  Gabrielle,  he  died  in  a  worthy  cause — and  learned  that 
there  were  other  and  dearer  objects  and  hopes  in  life,  than  the 
indulgence  of  my  own  thoughtless  pleasures.' 

" '  You  have  often  promised  me,  mother,  to  tell  me  of  those 
days :  do  so  now.  The  story  will  cheer  you,  and  help  to  beguile 
these  dreadful  moments  of  uncertainty  and  fear.' 

"  '  Not  now,  Gabrielle.  Let  us  rather  speak  of  this  young 
Derwent,  who  seeks  your  hand  and  offers  you  fortune.  He  is 
not  quite  indifferent  to  you?' 

" '  Once,  mother,  he  was  not.  But  he  has  betrayed  his 
country,  and  I  love  him  no  longer!  And  yet,  mother,  if  this 
poverty  is  so  painful  to  you ' 

"  '  God  forbid,  my  child  !' 

'"Or,  if  it  may  serve  the  happiness  of  my  poor  brothers ' 

" '  No  more,  my  own  true  Gabrielle !  You  speak  bravely, 
as  I  knew  you  would.  Let  us  be  poor  and  despised,  if  heaven 
sends  the  trial,  while  our  honour  and  conscience  remain  unsul- 


THE  MOTHERS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  95 

lied.  But  hark  I  is  not  that  the  tramp  of  horses  ?  Surely 
they  will  not  drive  us  from  this  poor  shelter;  they  cannot — 
take  from  me — my  child!'  and,  as  the  ominous  sound  of  the 
approach  of  armed  men  grew  louder,  mother  and  daughter  clung 
more  closely  to  each  other. 

"  As  they  made  no  answer  to  the  loud  knocking  which 
almost  immediately  followed,  some  heavy  blows  were  angrily 
bestowed  upon  the  frail  door,  which  soon  shook  it  from  its 
hinges. 

"  '  Pardon  this  seeming  lack  of  ceremony,  madam,'  said  the 
leader  of  the  intruders,  '  but  I  am  impatient  to  have  the  answer 
of  your  fair  daughter.  She  will,  I  presume,  be  but  too  glad 
to  exchange  this  vile  hovel  for  a  lordly  mansion ;  and  then 
like  a  dutiful  child  she  loves  her  mother  and  brothers,  I  am 
told  P 

"  '  At  least  she  loves  not  you,  bold,  bad  man !  Begone,  sir ! 
how  dare  you  thus  insult  me  ?  Begone,  I  say !' 

"  'Beware,  proud  lady,  that  you  do  not  anger  me  too  much!' 

" '  I  do  not  fear  you,  sir !  I  fear  only  God,  in  whom  I 
trust  for  protection !' 

"  '  Then  let  Him  protect  you,  for  by  Himself  I  swear  the 
girl  shall  be  mine !'  and,  as  he  spoke,  he  rudely  seized  the 
arm  of  the  defenceless  maid. 

"  Starting  to*  her  feet,  as  if  poisoned  by  his  touch,  she  darted 
upon  him  a  look  of  such  haughty  indignation,  such  sublime 
defiance,  that  even  his  boundless  impudence  was  for  a  moment 
cowed  and  appalled. 

"  '  Stand  back,  traitor  I  I,  Grabrielle  Fairfax,  love  a  craven 
like  you?  I  love  squalid  penury,  pain,  death — a  thousand 
deaths ;  but  you — you  I  loathe  !' 

"  '  Ha,  ha !'  laughed  the  villain  in  his  bitter  mortification, 
and  regaining  his  wonted  audacity.  '  That  is  all  very  fine,  fair 
lady,  but  it  won't  do  for  me.  Here,  my  men !  help  me  to 


96  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE 

take  care  of  this  poor  girl,  who  does  not  know  when  she  is 
well  off!' 

"  Scorning  the  prayers  of  the  mother,  and  deriding  the 
anger  of  the  daughter,  they  were  forcibly  dragging  away  their 
victim,  when  a  stranger,  bursting  into  the  room,  dealt  the  cow 
ardly  leader  a  blow  which  sent  him  staggering  against  the  wall. 

"  '  Brother,  brother !'  cried  Gabrielle  joyfully,  as  she  flew  to 
the  arms  of  her  rescuer. 

" '  God  be  praised  that  you  are  safe,  my  son !'  said  the 
widow.  '  But  you  have  escaped  one  danger  only  to  confront 
a  greater.  You  come  in  vain,  alas !  come  only  to  draw  upon 
us  all  the  remorseless  vengeance  of  yonder  daring  wretch.' 

" '  You  speak  sensibly  at  last,  madam,'  said  Derwent,  recov 
ering  from  the  stunning  effects  of  young  Fairfax's  unexpected 
greeting.  '  You  shall,  indeed,  pay  for  this !  Leave  the  girl, 
now,  my  lads,  and  bring  along  that  insolent  cub :  bring  him 

to  the  first  tree !' 

******* 

"  '  There  is  no  hope,  my  child  I  no  hope  but  in  God !  His 
will  be  done !  I  cannot  choose  between  you.  Your  brother 
would  never  permit  the  sacrifice !  You  would  both  die  broken 
hearted  !' 

"  '  No,  mother,  I  shall  be  happy — happy  in  saving  his  life 
— happy  in  your  happiness !' 

"  '  It  cannot  be  1  Think  of  it  no  more,  Gabrielle !  Never 
again  breathe  his  infamous  name !' 

"'But  my  brother? — he  must  be  saved,  at  any  cost!' 

"'I  will  seek  General  Washington  I' cried  the  widow,  as  her 
eyes  brightened  with  new  hope — '  your  father's  friend  and  com 
panion.  For  the  sake  of  old  loves  and  old  scenes,  he  will 
save  us  in  our  extremity ;'  and,  at  the  instant,  she  prepared  a 
message,  which  she  soon  after  found  an  opportunity  of  despatch 
ing  to  the  neighbouring  quarters  of  the  cOmmander-in-chief. 


THE  MOTHERS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  97 

"  Scarcely,  however,  was  the  note  sent,  when  the  sufferers 
were  again  frightened  by  the  reappearance  of  the  hated  mis 
creant,  Derwent. 

"  '  The  rebels  fly  !'  said  he  in  haste.  '  They  are  losing 
Yorktown,  and  with  Yorktown  they  lose  all.  Your  son  there 
is  slain,  and  the  other  is  my  prisoner !  You  would  not  be 
childless,  woman  ?  Give  me  the  girl,  and  take  back  your  boy ! 
Quick,  quick,  your  answer !  Let  her  sign  this  contract !' 

" '  Give  me  the  paper,'  said  Gabrielle  in  a  steady  voice ;  and 
in  a  moment  she  had  calmly  signed  away  her  freedom  and  her 
life. 

"  '  Now,  then,  to  the  church !'  he  cried  triumphantly,  half 
dragging  with  him  the  passive  girl  as  he  moved  away.  'There 
is  no  use  putting  off  until  to-morrow  what  may  be  done  to-day, 
and  you  may  not  always  be  as  wise  as  you  are  at  this  moment. 
Come,  come,  don't  look  so  much  as  if  you  were  going  to  the 
guillotine :  this,  remember,  is  your  own  free  act !' 

"  As  the  group  approached  the  neighbouring  church  they 
were  surprised  at  the  unusual  crowd  gathered  about  the  old 
edifice,  and  still  more  so  at  the  boisterous  and  happy  humour 
which  prevailed  among  them.  To  the  hearts  of  the  widow 
and  her  daughter  the  rejoicing  brought  new  fears,  while  it 
seemed  to  exhilarate  their  oppressor. 

"  '  The  people  are  assembled  to  do  honour  to  our  bridal, 
fair  Gabrielle,'  said  he.  '  Meet  them,  if  you  please,  with  a 
smiling  face !' 

"  But  the  feelings  of  all  suddenly  changed  when,  as  they 
drew  near,  the  voice  of  the  multitude  resolved  itself  into  glad 
shouts  of  '  Long  live  Washington !  long  live  the  Union !' 

" '  What  does  this  insolence  mean  ?'  said  Derwent,  half  in 
anger,  half  in  apprehension.  '  Surely  the  rebels  dare  not  thus 
openly ' 

"'Rebel  and  traitor  yourself !' cried  one  voice  after  another, 
7 


98  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

as  he  entered  among  the  crowd.  '  Know  you  not  that  the  vic 
tory  is  ours  ? — that  Cornwallis  is  taken,  and  the  country  is  free  ?' 

"  The  joy  of  Gabrielle  and  her  mother  now  became  almost 
oppressive  in  its  intensity  as  they  were  joined  by  young  Fairfax, 
whom  we  left  in  the  vengeful  power  of  the  recreant  Derwent. 

" '  You,  too,  come  back  to  me,  my  son,  safe  and  free !  Truly, 
heaven  answers  my  prayers !' 

"  '  Yes,  mother,  you  may  well  rejoice !  We  are  all  free 
again,  and  forever !  My  brother,  too,  is  safe,  and  will  soon  be 
with  us.  And  yet,  had  that  scoundrel  there,'  he  added,  as  his 
eyes  rested  upon  the  trembling  Derwent,  '  succeeded  in  his 
traitorous  schemes,  our  cause  would  have  been  lost!  But  how 
is  it  that  you  have  come  to  share  the  joy  of  the  people,  since 
you  seem  not  until  this  moment  to  have  heard  the  news?' 

11  Gabrielle,  pointing  from  Derwent  to  the  church,  said  with 
a  smile  of  hope,  '  We  were  going  there,  brother,  to  save  your 
life!' 

"  '  Where  we  will  still  go,  sweet  Gabrielle !  I  have  your 
pledge,  and  I  shall  not  release  you  so  easily,'  added  Derwent, 
making  new  efforts  to  push  his  way  through  the  people. 

"  '  Not  so  fast !'  interrupted  a  new  comer,  who  had  a  few 
moments  before  joined  the  group.  '  I  have  other  bands  for 
you,  sir,  than  the  pleasant  bands  of  wedlock !  You  are  my 
prisoner,  Mr.  Derwent !' 

"  At  the  sound  of  the  familiar  voice  which  here  reached 
her  ears,  the  widow  quickly  turned  and  welcomed  her  eldest 
son,  whom  she  had  mourned  as  lost  in  the  late  struggle. 

"  Handing  his  prisoner  over  to  proper  surveillance,  Captain 
Fairfax — for  the  lad  had  come  back  with  this  new  honour — 
returned  with  his  now  happy  family  to  the  glad  walls  of  the 
old  shed;  which  they  soon  exchanged  for  a  more  comfortable 
abode,  when  their  patrimony,  of  which  Derwent's  machinations 
had  deprived  them,  was  restored." 


MARGARET  HOUSE.  99 

"  All's  well  that  ends  well !"  said  Professor  Scumble,  approv 
ingly,  as  Mr.  Yermeille  finished  his  little  tale  and  relighted 
his  cigar. 

"But  it  is  not  ended,"  added  Mr.  Deepredde,  "for  I  have 
yet  to  continue  the  history,  in  a  peep  at  the  present  period  of 
Virginia  life — these  weak,  piping,  planting  times  of  peace  and 
plenty,  as  you  might  perhaps  express  it.  I  shall  make  no 
apology  for  my  sketch,  since  it  will  be  as  characteristic  of  the 
region  we  are  to  visit  to-night,  and  of  all  the  old  South,  as  of 
Virginia." 

"  Good  gracious !  is  madam  to  come  to  life  again  ?"  inquired 
the  Professor. 

"  Not  a  great  deal ;  but  if  you  will  all  close  your  eyes, 
clairvoyantly,  I  will  transport  you  to  a  comfortable  mansion  in 
the  heart  of  rich  fields — once  the  impenetrable  forests  of  the 
Old  Dominion.  There  you  will  see  Copley's  picture  of  the 
beautiful  Gabrielle  de  St.  Pierre,  chief  among  the  old  family 
portraits  of 


"It  is  Christmas  night,  and  though  the  winter  is  kindly,  a 
genial  fire  sparkles  on  the  generous  hearth,  bright  as  the  smiles 
of  pleasure  in  the  eyes  of  the  numerous  party,  young  and  old, 
gathered  around  it. 

"  Everything  within  the  hospitable  mansion  reiterates  the 
goodly  promise  of  its  old-fashioned  comfortable  exterior,  speak 
ing  with  equal  eloquence  of  young  hope  and  placid  age. 

"  A  fine  remnant  of  the  old  regime,  is  the  venerable  yet 
jolly  gentleman  so  contentedly  sipping  his  egg-nog  as  he  talks 
to  a  fellow  ancient,  and  watches  the  mazy  movements  of  the 
young  folk,  as  they  whirl  round  in  the  merry  dance. 


100  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

" '  Very  different  times,  my  old  friend,'  he  says,  '  to  the 
trying  days  of  our  grandmothers,  there  on  the  walls!  "What 
would  Harry  Fairfax  and  his  blooming  Gabrielle  say,  could 
they  now  revisit  the  busy  banks  of  the  Ohio,  and,  stepping  into 
a  rail-car,  in  a  few  hours  dash  through  the  fertile  fields  where 
once  grew  the  old  forests  of  the  Alleghanies?  Would  not 
such  a  glimpse  of  the  present  happiness  and  glory  of  their 
country,  richly  repay  the  blood  and  life  they  so  freely  lavished 
in  its  defence?' 

"  Now  the  reverend  seigneurs — turning  from  the  past  to  the 
present — have  got  upon  other  themes,  and  are  earnestly  dis 
cussing  the  crying  need  of  a  railway  to  the  Pacific  and  the 
influence  of  the  United  States  upon  the  current  of  the  dawning 
war  in  Europe. 

"  Fine,  manly  looking  fellows,  those,  leaning  over  the  an 
tique  sideboard,  and  so  heartily  discussing  the  pleasures  of 
the  chase,  as  they  review  the  adventures  and  successes  of  the 
past  happy  day. 

" '  What  would  our  respected  sires  say,'  asks  one  of  the 
joyous  group,  'could  they  step  from  their  dusty  frames  and 
join  us  in  such  free  and  unmolested  sport  as  we  have  had  to 
day?  Gabrielle,  yonder,  would  regain  her  fabled  youth  and 
beauty  and  fall  in  love  again  with  the  gallant  Harry!  Here's 
to  the  memory  of  both,  boys,  not  in  exports  of  Champaigne, 
but  in  sparkling  Catawba  from  the  sunny  and  peaceful  vine 
yards  of  their  own  Ohio  !' 

"  Promising  lads,  those,  grouped  yonder  in  the  deep  recesses 
of  the  old  oriel  window,  and  glad  on  their  temporary  escape 
from  the  college — not  from  far-off  Cambridge  or  Oxford,  but 
from  their  own  classic  halls  in  Charlottesville. 

"  '  No  such  field  now-a-days,  boys,'  says  one  of  the  most 
aspiring  of  the  number,  'for  gallant  deeds,  as  in  the  stirring 
times  of  our  worthy  ancestors  there !  I  should  like  to  be  a 


MARGAKET  HOUSE.  101 

brave  soldier,  like  old  grand-daddy  Fairfax,  and  win  the  love 
of  a  daring  girl  like  Gabrielle !' 

"  '  I,'  replies  a  more  thoughtful,  yet  less  imaginative  youth, 
'  am  going  to  Congress  to  maintain  and  exalt  the  freedom  and 
fame  they  so  nobly  bequeathed  to  us!' 

"  What  are  the  matrons  talking  about  so  mysteriously,  as 
they  sip  their  tea,  and  ply  their  knitting  needles? 

"  '  I  am  afraid,'  says  an  elderly  dame,  '  that  in  the  midst 
of  the  pleasures  and  luxuries  and  indulgences  which  surround 
them,  our  children  will  forget  the  virtues  and  high  characters 
of  their  fathers  and  grow  degenerate  and  useless.' 

"  '  Not  if  we  properly  teach  them  the  story  of  Gabrielle  and 
the  sufferings  with  which  she  so  heroically  contributed  to  the 
purchase  of  their  happy  lot,  and  the  duty  it  imposes  upon  them 
to  respect  and  perpetuate  her  memory  and  fame.' 

"  Here,  too,  are  the  bright  eyes  of  the  maidens  bent  in  pride 
and  pleasure  upon  the  honest  faces  of  their  pictured  pro 
genitors. 

"  '  Gabrielle  in  her  dangerous  forest  life  and  the  wild  battle 
field,'  says  one,  seeking  a  moment's  rest,  '  could  not  dance  as 
gaily  and  unconcernedly  as  we  do  now.' 

"  '  Or  forget  the  troubles  and  trials  with  which  her  life 
was  beset,'  adds  another,  marking  the  page  of  the  dainty  vol 
ume  she  closes,  '  in  the  pleasures  of  the  world  of  charming  books 
which  teach  us  so  pleasantly  what  she  learned  by  harsh  ex 
perience.' 

"  '  Or  love  with  such  confident  hope  of  realizing  her  dreams 
as  we  can,'  whispers  a  youth  in  the  ear  of  the  fair  student,  as 
he  approaches  to  learn  what  on  earth  the  girls  are  so  busily 
talking  about. 

"  '  Every  body,'  says  old  Caesar,  turning  to  a  happy  group 
of  fellow  servants,  '  is  looking  at  de  portraits  of  old  Massa 
Fairfax  and  Miss  Gabrielle,  and  they  seems  to  feel  mighty 


102  THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

proud  of  'em!'  and  the  virtue  and  heroism  of  Caesar  and  his 
ebony  mates  grow  greatly,  even  in  the  reflected  beauty  of 
the  high  and  pure  emotions  which  fill  the  souls  of  the  good 
people  of  Margaret  House,  as  they  gaze  upon  the  voiceful  fea 
tures  of  their  ancestors,  and  recall  the  fragrant  memory  of  their 
noble  lives." 


"  The  chairman,"  said  Mr.  Yerrneille,  "  has  drawn  a  very 
graceful  moral  from  the  checkered  history  of  Mademoiselle 
Gabrielle ;  and  now,  if  the  poor  lady  may  be  permitted  to  rest 
quietly  in  her  grave,  perhaps  we  had  better  be  off  for  Georgia, 
and  take  a  peep  at  our  host's  pictures  of  Toccoa  and  Tallulah. 
He  knows  as  much  as  any  of  us  about  that  region,  and  I  hope 
he  will  favour  us  with  a  few  remarks  initiatory  of  the  subject." 
In  reply  to  this  demand  we  made  a  hasty  reference  to  the 
several  characteristics  of  the  scenery  of  the  South ;  jumping 
as  rapidly  as  possible,  from  the  elfish  beauties  of  the  mystic 
swamps,  the  wild  intricacies  of  the  dense  cane-breaks  and  the 
luxuriant  rice-fields,  onward  to  the  higher  lands  of  the  golden 
maize  and  the  snowy  cotton ;  and,  finally,  bringing  up  amidst 
the  picturesque  grandeur  and  beauty  of  the  varied  mountain 
region.  Our  words  were  of  the  briefest — said  with  no  end  but 
to  awaken  the  memories  of  our  guests,  whose  thoughts  we  were 
more  desirous  of  hearing  than  to  record  our  own. 

"  My  own  preference,"  said  Mr.  Asphaltum,  as  we  left  the 
subject  on  the  lips  of  the  company,  "  is  for  the  dreary  humour 
of  the  sleeping  lowlands;  not  so  much  for  the  contrast  it  offers 
to  the  general  character  of  our  scenery,  as  for  its  own  intrinsic 
charms.  There  is  to  me  a  marvellous  attraction  in  the  beauty 
of  the  broad  savannas,  seemingly  interminable  in  the  hazy  at 
mosphere  which  wraps  them  in  such  peaceful  and  poetic  repose ; 
and  which,  with  the  luxuriant  vegetation  and  the  wealth  of 


SOUTHERN   SCENERY.  103 

forest  flowers,  soothe  the  feeling  and  fancy,  but  yet  keep  them 
delightfully  wakeful  and  active." 

"  My  favourite  haunts,"  said  Mr.  Blueblack,  "  are  the  dark 
and  poisonous  lagunes  which  lead  into  the  mysterious  heart 
of  the  ghostly  swamps.  Creeping  in  my  canoe  through  these 
dismal  passages — their  black  waters  filled  with  venomous  snakes 
and  lurking  alligators,  and  shut  out  from  the  light  of  day  by 
the  intervening  branches  of  the  cypress,  the  dark  foliage  of 
the  magnolia,  and  the  inextricable  veils  of  rampant  vine,  with 
the  gray  trailing  moss  pendant  everywhere  in  mournful  fes 
toons — my  fancy  has  run  riot  through  a  thousand  wild  and 
dreary  imaginings  which  it  would  harrow  up  your  soul  to 
hear!" 

"Pray  don't  mention  them,"  said  Mr.  Brownoker;  "such 
dismal  scenes  may  suit  your  sombre  temper;  but  for  my  part, 
except  to  follow  the  deer,  and  to  hunt  the  wild  fowl,  which  I 
am  told  abound  in  these  horrible  jungles,  I  should,  when  once 
I  had  exhausted  the  novelty  of  the  thing,  make  my  way  out, 
and  think  pleasanter  thoughts,  with  Asphaltum,  under  a  jasmine 
bower,  or  in  the  quiet  shadow  of  the  great  live-oaks.  Still- 
better,  should  I  prefer  the  fresher  airs  and  the  more  healthful 
beauties  of  the  uplands." 

"  And  better  again,"  interrupted  Mr.  Deepredde,  "  the  glo 
ries  of  the  wild  mountain  regions ;  to  which,  by  the  way,  I 
think  that  it  is  high  time  we  turn  our  thoughts." 

"  Despite  the  many  pictures,  with  both  pen  and  pencil, 
which  our  host  has  from  time  to  time  given  us  of  our  South 
ern  Landscape,"*  said  Mr.  Vermeille,  "its  beauties  are  yet 
very  inadequately  known.  How  few,  while  traversing  the  high 
roads  through  the  monotonous  pine  woods  of  North  Carolina, 
think  of  the  grand  Apalachian  peaks,  and  the  world  of  kindred 

*   In   this  mention   of  our   own  humble  labours,  Mr.  Vermeille  very  kindly 
employed  various  flattering  adjectives,  which  we  are  compelled  to  omit. 


104  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

charms  which  delight  all  the  western  part  of  the  State ;  the 
soaring  crown  of  Black  Mountain,  rising  higher  above  the  val 
leys  around,  than  even  the  famous  snow-clad  summit  of  Mount 
Washington  ;  and  the  wild  passage  of  the  French  Broad  through 
forty  miles  of  rugged  gorge,  to  the  peaceful  and  fertile  valley 
of  the  Tennessee  1" 

"  Then  again,"  said  Mr.  Flakewhite,  "  there  lie,  hard  by, 
the  hill-beauties  of  the  Palmetto  State:  King's  Mountain,  famed 
in  Revolutionary  record;  the  grand  palisaded  flanks  of  Table 
Mountain ;  the  bold  crest  of  Caesar's  Head ;  and  the  many  lovely 
little  valleys  and  waterfalls  which  surround  them — the  Saluda, 
and  Jocassee,  Slicking,  and  White  Water." 

"  Bringing  us  at  last,  and  by  easy  stages,"  said  Mr.  Megilp, 
"  to  the  third  and  most  attractive  division  of  the  mountain 
scenery  of  the  south-eastern  States — the  northern  part  of  Geor 
gia.  All  this  northern  part,  by  the  way,  abounds  in  noble 
hill  and  valley  views — from  the  grand  summit  of  Look-out 
Mountain,  overlooking  the  magnificent  plains  of  the  Tennessee, 
to  the  thick  cluster  of  delicious  scenes  in  the  north-eastern 
counties,  of  which  Toccoa  and  Tallulah  are  the  centre  and 
chief — the  one  a  dainty,  laughing,  little  brooklet,  making  one 
merry,  bounding  leap  over  a  precipice  of  nearly  two  hundred 
feet ;  and  the  other  a  foaming  torrent,  urging  its  mad  way 
through  a  deep  and  jagged  mountain  chasm." 

"  The  late  Judge  Charlton,  one  of  the  South's  sweetest 
poets,"  added  Mr.  Flakewhite,  "  said  of  this  gentle  cascade  of 
Toccoa,  that  it  reminded  him,  more  than  any  scene  he  had  ever 
beheld,  of  the  poetic  descriptions  of  fairy  land;  and  he  has 
recorded  this  fancy  of  his  in  a  graceful  poem,  a  passage  from 
which — if  our  host  has  a  copy  of  his  "Georgia  Illustrated" — I 
will  not  hesitate  to  read  to  you. 

"  It  runs  thus,"  continued  Mr.  Flakewhite,  opening  the  vol 
ume,  which  we  pulled  down  from  its  dusty  nook : — 


SOUTH-EAST.  105 

" '  Beautiful  brook  ! — when  the  moonlight's  gleam 
Glistens  upon  thy  falling  stream, 
And  the  varied  tints  of  thy  rainbow  vie 
"With  the  brightest  hues  of  the  evening  sky — 
The  woodland  elf,  and  the  merry  fay, 
Chant  on  thy  banks  their  roundelay ; 
•    And  with  fairy  sword,  and  tiny  spear, 
Fight  o'er  their  bloodless  battles  here. 
The  drowsy  bird,  from  its  leafy  nook, 
Peers  on  the  whole  with  an  anxious  look; 
And  the  cricket  uplifteth  its  cheerful  voice, 
And  the  bats  at  the  merry  sound  rejoice; 
And  the  fairy  troop,  on  their  sylvan  green, 
Frolic  and  dance  in  the  moonlight's  sheen.' " 

"  But  few  scenes  in  the  South,"  said  another  speaker,  "  have 
been  so  beloved  by  the  poets  as  this  prattling  little  brooklet. 
A  few  of  many  lines  sung  in  its  praise  by  a  native  bard,* 
come  to  my  memory  at  this  moment. 

"  '  TOCCOA  !   OB,  THE  BEAUTIFUL  !   this  name 
To  thee  was  given  by  the  tawny  Indian  girls, 
When,  with  the  summer's  sultry  noon,  they  came 
To  bathe  their  bosoms,  where  thy  water  curls 
Around  the  mossy  rocks  in  countless  pearls; 
Or,  when  in  autumn,  seeking  o'er  the  hill 
From  which  thy  eddying  current  lightly  whirls, 
Brown  nuts,  their  baskets  of  light  reed  to  fill, 
They  loved  to  pause,  and  gaze  upon  thy  beauties  still.' "     , 

"  As  '  capping  verses'  seems  to  be  the  play  of  the  moment," 
said  Mr.  Yermeille,  "  perhaps  you  will  allow  me  to  repeat  a 
sonnet  to  our  brook  from  another  pen.f 

" '  In  the  brown  shadows  of  a  mountain  wood 
There  flows  a  crystal  stream  scarce  known  to  song, 

*  Hon.  Henry  R.  Jackson.  f  "William  C.  Richards,  Esq. 


106  THE  EOMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

That  to  its  own  sweet  music  glides  along, 

Charming  the  else  unbroken  solitude  1 

Tis  called  TOOOOA  in  the  Indian  tongue, 

And  never  yet  was  name  more  fitly  given : 

THE  BEAUTIFITL!    beneath  the  smiling  heaven 

No  lovelier  stream  the  poet  ever  sung; 

The  forest  boughs  above  it  interweave, 

And  through  their  leafy  fret-work  sunbeams  stray, 

And  on  the  dancing  ripples  tremulous  play, 

As  golden  threads  the  glancing  shuttles  leave ; — 

Thus  bright  and  musical  the  streamlet  goes, 

And  on  its  marge  the  scented  wild-flower  blows.' " 

"  Toccoa,"  said  Mr.  Deepredde,  "  is  a  scene  as  exhaustless 
in  its  morale,  as  it  is  simple  in  its  physique.  It  needs  few 
words  to  describe  it  intelligibly,  while  volumes  would  not  suf 
fice  to  tell  all  the  thought  and  fancy  it  creates.  Has  not  some 
one  a  story  or  tradition  with  which  to  close  our  recollections 
of  the  spot  ?" 

"  There  is  an  old  legend  appertaining  thereto,"  said  Mr. 
Brownoker,  "but  it's  a  gloomy,  tragical  sort  of  affair.  How 
ever,  if  Blueblack  will  do  it  up  for  us  in  his  Kembrandtish  style, 
it  may  be  effective." 

"Come,  come,  Blueblack!"  said  several  voices,  as  that  gen 
tleman  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  dissent,  "  there's  no  appeal 
here !  You  must  touch  up 


Cjj*  ©to  f  egeitfr  of 


"Well,  I'll  start  you!"  said  Brownoker,  as  Mr.  Blueblack 
continued  to  hem  and  haw  and  knit  his  unwilling  brows.  "  Give 
us  your  hand  and  step  along! 

"It  was  a  fearful  night  —  I  suppose  night  will  be  the  best 
hour,  won't  it?  —  black  darkness  overspread  the  land;  the  mut- 


THE  OLD  LEGEND  OF  TOCGOA.  107 

tering  thunders  and  the  vengeful  lightning  shook  the  trembling 
air " 

"But  the  mad  frenzy  of  the  elements,"  continued  Mr.  Blue- 
black,  taking  up  the  grandiloquent  sentence,  "  was  a  soft  repose 
in  comparison  with  the  tempest  of  angry  and  revengeful  passions 
which  tore  the  soul  of  a  lonely  old  crone  gazing  from  the  win 
dow  of  her  desolate  cabin  upon  the  terrible  storm  without. 

"  '  Why  does  not  the  wrath  of  heaven  strike  their  savage 
hearts !'  she  cried.  '  O,  I  live  but  to  avenge  the  cruel  murder 
of  my  sons !  Not  one  of  my  darlings  have  their  bloody  hands 
spared  to  me !  My  life,  once  happy  as  a  summer  morn,  they 
have  made,  alas !  more  wretched  than  the  bitterest  winter's  night ! 
God,  send  me  my  revenge ;  but  what  am  I  to  do  with  vengeance, 
when  I  am  only  too  weak  to  protect  myself — protect  myself! 
ha !  ha !  Let  me  be  avenged,  and  I  care  not  how  soon  Toccoa 
sings  its  death  song  over  the  old  woman's  lonely  grave !' 

"  Here  the  passionate  soliloquy  of  our  solitary  watcher  was 
interrupted  by  the  sudden  and  stealthy  entrance  of  a  large 
troop  of  Indians,  who  had  come,  evidently,  in  search  of  herself. 

"'Yes,  yes!'  she  cried.  'This  at  least  is  merciful  in  you! 
to  take  the  life  you  have  robbed  of  all  its  light  and  hope!' 

"  '  Peace !'  said  the  chief,  gravely.  '  We  seek  not  your  poor 
life.  If  we  have  slain  your  people,  it  is  because  they  have 
stolen  our  lands  and  put  out  our  council  fires.' 

"  '  If  you  mean  me  no  harm,  then  why  do  you  seek  me  ?' 

"  '  To  guide  us  by  Toccoa  to  the  valley  below.  We  are 
strangers  here  and  know  not  the  path,  while  you  listen  to  the 
fall  of  the  silvery  waters  all  day  long.' 

"  '  Conduct  you  over  the  falls  that  you  may  carry  to  other 
quiet  homes  the  desolation  you  have  left  in  mine !  I  will  not 
lead  you !'  answered  the  woman ;  but  as  the  arm  of  the  savage 
rose  threateningly  above  her  head,  another  thought  seemed  to 
cross  her  mind,  and  she  continued,  'I  will  go.  Spare  me,  and 


108  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

promise  me  your  protection  and  friendship,  and  I  will  go  with 

you!1 

"  '  I  promise,  and  the  red-skin  never  lies,'  replied  the  chief, 
motioning  her  to  take  her  place  at  the  head  of  the  file,  as  he 
moved  towards  the  door. 

"  Many  a  winding  bout  did  the  old  crone  lead  the  ghostly 
procession,  as  it  slowly  struggled,  in  single  file,  against  the  pelt- 
ings  of  the  storm. 

" '  A  moment's  treachery  and  you  die,'  said  the  savage, 
growing  somewhat  surprised  at  the  length  of  the  way. 

"  'You  will  soon  be  at  the  bottom  of  the  falls!'  replied  the 
guide,  quietly;  and  the  next  instant  she  stood  upon  the  ex- 
tremest  verge  of  the  precipice. 

"  In  the  obscurity  of  the  hour  and  the  roar  of  the  tempest,  no 
eye  or  ear  but  her  own  could  see  or  feel  the  dropping  waters. 

"  Stepping  aside  at  this  critical  moment,  cautiously  and 
unseen,  her  trusting  followers  moved  on,  each  after  the  other, 
down  the  deep  and  fatal  abyss,  from  which  no  wail  of  despair 
or  death  rose  above  the  fury  of  the  storm.  One  by  one,  they 
thus  marched  to  their  fearful  graves,  until  not  a  soul  of  all  the 
devoted  procession  lived  to  tell  the  gloomy  tale. 

"  As  her  last  foe  perished,  the  wretched  woman  uttered  a 
shout  of  hellish  triumph.  'Not  yet,  not  yet,  will  I  leave  the 
fiends!'  she  cried;  Til  follow  them  to  their  living  graves!' 
and  with  one  mad  leap  she  sunk  with  her  victims  into  the 
dark  basin  of  Toccoa." 

"  A  gloomy  story  for  so  smiling  a  scene,"  said  Flakewhite ; 
"but,  alas!  how  many  gay  faces  are  masks  to  bitter  thoughts." 

"  A  dead  march  is  not  exactly  the  music  to  go  home  by," 
said  Mr.  Brownoker,  as  he  looked  for  his  hat.  "  I  hope  Blue- 
black  will  hereafter  give  us  his  sentiments  at  the  beginning, 
rather  than  at  the  end  of  the  evening." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

"  WHERE  are  we  going  ?"  said  the  amiable  chairman,  re 
peating  Mr.  Brownoker's  inquiry  touching  the  route  of  the 
night.  Brownoker  was  always  curious  on  this  point,  as  though 
it  made  the  least  difference  in  the  world  to  him,  happy  in  all 
places  and  circumstances,  whither  he  went.  "  Where  are  we 
going,  my  dear  fellow?  JsTot  very  far  from  our  last  night's 
camp  at  Toccoa;  only  a  pleasant  walk,  if  you  will,  of  half  a 
dozen  miles  thence  to  the  famous  cascades  of  Tallulah,  the 
Terni  of  Georgia." 

"  '  Charming  the  eye  with  dread — a  matchless  cataract !' "  mur 
mured  the  Professor,  turning  Childe  Harold  over  in  his  thoughts. 

"  Truly,  '  a  matchless  cataract,'  "  added  Mr.  Vermeille,  "  hard 
ly  surpassed  by  any  parallel  scene  in  the  world.  Unlike  the 
beautiful  Toccoa,  descending  sweetly  and  gently  upon  us,  as 
the  soft  whispers  of  angels,  the  mad  waters  of  Tallulah — or 
Terrora  the  Terrible,  as  the  stream  is  sometimes  called — howl 
and  hiss  and  boil  in  endless  torture,  affrighting  the  ear  like 
the  wails  of  tortured  spirits  down  in  their  deep  and  dark  im 
prisonment." 

"  Mr.    Vermeille,"    resumed    the    chairman,    smiling    at    his 


110  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

friend's  desperate  metaphors,  "means  to  tell  us,  simply,  that 
while  the  waters  of  Toccoa  drop  down  upon  us  noiselessly,  in  a 
single  waving  line,  leaving  no  impression  upon  the  mind  deeper 
than  a  pleasing  sense  of  the  beautiful,  Tallulah,  on  the  contrary, 
exhibits  all  the  sterner  elements  of  the  grand  and  the  sublime, 
in  the  greater  volume  and  rapidity  of  its  floods,  in  their  passage, 
not  trippingly  over  an  embowered  wall,  but  wildly  through 
the  rugged  bed  of  a  deep  ravine.  This  stupendous  chasm  in 
the  Blue  Ridge  is  a  thousand  feet  deep ;  its  granite  walls  rising 
perpendicularly  in  many  places  to  the  summit  of  the  mountains. 
It  extends  in  a  devious  line  for  nearly  a  mile,  and  the  waters 
make,  in  their  transit,  a  long  series  of  cascades  of  great  variety 
in  form  and  extent.  At  one  moment  the  stream  flows  peace 
fully  as  at  Lodore,*  and,  anon,  it  makes  a  grand  free  plunge 
of  fifty  or  sixty  feet,  as  at  the  falls  known  as  the  Oceana  and 
the  Tempesta,  and  again  struggles  and  writhes  amidst  the  con 
fused  boulders  gathered  at  some  sharp  angle  in  the  gorge. 
There  are  altogether  no  less  than  nine  distinct  cascades,  each 
in  itself  worthy  of  a  pilgrimage  to  see.  They  might  have  been 
not  infelicitously  baptized  with  the  names  of  the  Muses,  for 
they  present,  in  their  several  individualities,  all  the  contrasting 
characteristics  of  the  mythic  group,  from  the  dainty  grace  of 
the  fair  Terpsichore,  to  the  solemn  humour  of  grave  Melpomene. 
"  Seen  from  above,  the  picture  is  ever-changing  and  always 
impressive ;  while  in  the  bed  of  the  ravine,  to  which  numerous 
paths  lead  the  visitor,  a  totally  different  and  yet  more  in 
teresting  portfolio  is  opened.  .  These  charming  cascades  have 
become  of  late  years  a  place  of  favourite  resort  for  the  dwellers 
on  the  seaboard  of  the  Southern  States.  They  are  the  central 
attraction  of  a  wide  field  of  natural  beauties;  and  the  whole 
region  abounds  with  the  summer  villas  of  the  opulent  planters. 

*  See  frontispiece. 


TALLULAH  AND  TOCCOA.  Ill 

Many  of  these  elegant  seats  embellish  the  neighbouring  village 
of  Clarksville ;  a  convenient  place  from  which  to  reach  all  the 
surrounding  points  of  interest.  Toccoa  and  Tallulah  in  one 
direction,  and  the  winsome  vale  of  Nacoochee  and  the  noble 
Yonah,  in  another.  The  Southern  poets  have  always  delighted 
to  draw  inspiration  from  these  pet  shrines  of  Nature.  Who 
among  us  can  gather  some  of  their  stray  wreaths  ?" 

"  If  my  memory  will  be  kind,"  said  Mr.  Flakewhite,  in 
answer  to  this  demand  of  the  chair,  "  I  will  recall,  for  your 
edification,  some  passages  from  a  tributary  poem  to  Tallulah  by 
the  Hon.  Henry  E.  Jackson,  who  served  us,  you  may  remem 
ber,  at  our  last  meeting,  in  our  meditations  at  Toccoa.  The 
poet  is,  like  ourselves,  passing  from  the  gentler  to  the  grander 
of  the  sister  streams. 

"  '  But  hark  I   beneath  yon  hoary  precipice, 

The  rush  of  mightier  waters,  as  they  pour 
In  foaming  torrents  through  the  dark  abyss, 

"Which  echoes  back  the  thunders  of  their  roar ; 
Approach  the  frightful  gorge,  and,  gazing  o'er, 

What  mad  emotions  through  the  bosom  thrill; 
Hast  ever  seen  so  dread  a  sight  before? 

TALLULAH  1   by  that  name  we  hail  thee  still,     . 

And  own  that  thou  art  justly  called  the  TERRIBLE! 

lu  vain  o'er  thee  shall  glow  with  wild  delight 

The  painter's  eye,  and  voiceless  still  shall  be 
The  poet's  tongue,  who  from  this  giddy  height 

Shall  kindle  in  thy  awful  minstrelsy! 
Thou  art  too  mighty  in  thy  grandeur — we 

Too  weak  to  give  fit  utterance  to  the  soul! 
Thy  billows  mock  us  with  their  tempest  glee, 

As  thundering  on  while  countless  ages  roll, 

Thou  scornest  man's  applause,  alike  with  man's  control.'" 

"While  talking  of  the  romance  of  this  picturesque  neigh 
bourhood,"  said  Mr.  Megilp,  "I  should  like  to  tell  you  the 


112  THE   ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

tragic  legend  which,  gives  name  to  the  little  valley  of  JSTacoo- 
chee  ;  all  about  a  lovely  Indian  princess,  who  sacrificed  her 
life  to  her  passion  for  the  son  of  a  rival  chieftain,  and  was 
buried  with  her  lover  beneath  a  huge  mound,  conspicuous  in 
the  centre  of  the  valley  at  this  day.  But  leaving  you  to  fash 
ion  the  tale  for  yourself,  as  every  body  else  has  done,  I  will 
make  my  homage  to  the  beauty  of  the  valley  in  the  numbers 
of  a  remembered  song.* 

" '  Enshrined  in  my  heart  is  the  vale  of  Nacoochee, 

And  memory  often  makes  pilgrimage  sweet 
To  the  beautiful  haunts  of  the  bright  Chattahooche, 
Where  its  silvery  fountains  in  melody  meet 

The  poets  may  boast  if  they  will,  of  "Wyoming, 

Of  peerless  Avoca,  and  lovely  Cashmere ; 
My  fancy,  contented  without  any  roaming, 

Shall  find  in  Nacoochee  a  valley  more  dear. 

Oh  1  soft  are  its  airs,  and  delicious  its  breezes, 

Perfumed  by  the  breath  of  a  thousand  wild  flowers; 

And  wafting  the  music  of  Nature,  which  pleases 
Far  more  than  the  charms  of  Apollo's  rare  powers. 

The  sentinel  mountains  around  this  sweet  valley 
Lift  watchful  and  proudly  their  towering  forms; 

And  when  'round  their  crests  the  fierce  tempest  clouds  rally, 
It  sleeps  in  their  bosoms  unrecking  of  storms. 

Above  thee,  oh  vale  of  my  heart!  there's  a  splendour 
Unwonted  and  peerless  in  day's  glowing  beam ; 

And  never  are  Dian's  chaste  kisses  so  tender, 

As  when  she  bestows  them  on  thy  crystal  stream. 

Farewell,  lovely  valley  1  sweet  theme  of  my  numbers, 
Thy  beauty  shall  evermore  dwell  in  my  heart ; 

No  vision  more  rare  shall  be  known  to  my  slumbers, 
No  scene  from  my  memory  shall  later  depart  1' " 

*  William  C.  Richards,  Esq. 


MANNERS   OF  THE   MOUNTAINEERS.  113 

"  The  valley  of  Nacoochee,"  said  Mr.  Brownoker,  as  Megilp 
ended  his  lyric,  "  is  useful  as  well  as  ornamental ;  its  soil  yield 
ing  to  the  tiller  rich  returns,  not  only  of  luscious  grains  and 
fruits,  but  of  pure  gold.  Indeed,  as  you  are  ail  aware,  the 
mountain  regions  of  Georgia,  and  the  Carolinas,  have  long  been 
successfully  searched  for  the  precious  ore.  In  the  "  North  State," 
as  the  people  here  call  the  upper  Carolina,  the  government 
years  ago  established  a  branch  mint,  and  another  in  Georgia, 
not  more  than  two  days'  stout  walk  from  Nacoochee.  Iron  is 
also  found  in  this  region,  but  it  is  more  practically  abundant 
a  little  further  westward." 

"  Mr.  Brownoker's  allusion  to  the  material  wealth  of  these 
too  much  isolated  regions  of  the  South-east,  leads  me  to  give 
expression  to  a  thought  which  has  often  come  to  my  mind," 
said  the  chairman  ;  "  the  hope  that  the  influx  of  new  and 
broader  ideas,  carried  thither  by  the  increasing  current  of  travel, 
and  by  enlarged  industry  and  ambition,  will  soon  lift  the  peo 
ple  above  the  gross  ignorance  in  which  they  at  present  so  con 
tentedly  rest.  In  no  part  of  our  Union  is  the  mental  condition 
of  the  peasantry  so  low  as  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  Southern 
mountain  lands;  so  destitute  are  they  of  schools,  and  so  little 
is  their  intercourse  with  the  world  beyond  them.  "Where  the 
usual  means  of  education  happen  to  be  wanting  at  the  North 
and  West,  there  is  still  a  constant  shifting  and  interchange  of 
population,  which  induces  mental  activity  and  progress." 

"  I  sincerely  hope  that  there  will  be,  through  some  agency 
or  other,  a  change  for  the  better  before  my  next  visit,"  said 
Mr.  Megilp,  "  and  that  the  good  people  will  learn  the  uses  of 
some  of  the  necessities,  if  not  of  the  comforts  and  refinements 
of  life.  I  have  travelled  weeks  together,  hereabouts,  without 
finding  a  book  or  a  newspaper,  or  any  one  who  could  have 
read  them  had  they  been  there.  Sometimes  I  have  had  diffi 
culty  in  making  myself  intelligible  to  their  uncultured  ears, 


114  THE   KOMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

and  have  been  set  down  as  belonging  to  any  race  but  their 
own.  One  estimable  lady  thought  I  was  too  'light  complected' 
for  an  '  Ingin,'  and  that  I  talked  'too  broken'  to  be  an 
'  Irisher '  or  a  '  Jew,'  or  even  a  '  Frenchman.'  To  relieve  her 
mind,  I  gravely  informed  her  that  I  was  a  Turk — a  claim  sup 
ported  by  the  miraculous  beard  I  wore  at  the  time,  as  well 
as  by  a  genuine  hookah  I  always  carry  with  me,  and  was  then 
smoking ;  to  say  nothing  about  a  famous  Greek  cap  which 
adorned  my  phrenology." 

"  '  Lord  alive !'  exclaimed  the  simple  matron,  in  great  alarm, 
and  dropping  her  own  corn-cob  pipe  from  her  lips.  'You 
don't  mean  to  say  that  you  are  one  o'  them  heathen  what  I've 
heerd  tell  of,  that  lives  on  a  great  wall,  and  has  ever  so  many 
women,  and  chucks  their  motherless  babes  under  the  wheels  of 
Juggerney !' 

"  '  I  certainly  belong  there,'  said  I,  '  but  my  countrymen  are 
very  much  slandered.  We  do  the  babies  now  with  epsom  salts, 
and  keep  "Juggerney"  for  the  old  women  only.  As  to  the 
wives,  it's  against  the  law  for  any  man  to  have  over  forty-seven, 
except  the  Sultan,  and  we  are  not  allowed  to  whip  them  more 
than  twice  a  day,  unless  they  happen  to  be  exceedingly  ob 
streperous.' 

"  '  The  Lord  preserve  us !'  ejaculated  my  hostess.  '  I  wonder 
they  let  sich  critters  go  about !' 

"  '  Oh !'  said  I,  '  when  we  are  away  from  home  we  always 
do  just  like  other  people.  As  for  myself,  I  came  over  on  an 
elephant  and  six  dromedaries  to  present  a  gold  "Juggerney" 
to  the  President  of  the  United  States,  as  a  mark  of  respect  from 
my  uncle,  the  great  Cham.' 

"  This  allusion  to  my  august  relative,  and  the  high  dignity 
of  my  mission,  awakened  the  respect  of  the  old  lady,  and  her 
reverence  greatly  increased  when  I  informed  her  that  the  Presi 
dent  had  insisted  upon  my  staying  with  him  a  month,  and  had 


MEGILP'S  METAMORPHOSES.  115 

given   me   a  lock  of  his  hair  in   a  gutta-percha  box  to  carry 
back  to  my  Imperial  uncle. 

"  When,  as  supper  time  was  approaching,  the  worthy  widow 
grew  doubtful  about  the  abilities  of  her  cuisine  to  supply  the 
wants  of  so  extraordinary  a  traveller  as  myself,  I  assured  her 
that  I  had  become  accustomed  to  eat  any  thing,  though  if  she 
had  such  an  article  in  the  house  as  a  few  young  and  tender 


"  '  Cats  1   oh  gracious  !' 

"  '  Well,  well,  it's  no  matter  if  you  haven't  got  them  ;  and, 
then,  if  you  had,  you  wouldn't  know  precisely  how  to  cook 
them  ;  and,  unless  they  are  done  exactly  right  they  are  no 
nicer  than  chickens  and  other  things  of  that  sort  ;  so  just  do 
the  best  you  can.' 

"  When  supper  was  ready,  and  the  hostess  watched  my  skill 
in  disposing  of  her  provisions,  she  seemed  to  think  that  I  had 
indeed  a  wonderful  knack  of  adapting  myself  to  circumstances, 
whatever  they  were  ! 

"  On  another  occasion,"  continued  the  veracious  Megilp, 
"  when  I  was  travelling  in  the  character  of  a  preacher  —  my 
vocation  about  that  time  varied  with  each  passing  day  —  I  held 
up  for  the  night  at  a  house,  where  a  bridal  ceremony  was  in 
waiting.  The  victims  were  young  slaves  of  the  family.  Great 
preparations  had  been  made,  and  both  whites  and  blacks  were 
expecting  to  have  'a  time.' 

"  Unfortunately,  just  at  the  very  height  of  expectation, 
intelligence  was  received  of  the  sudden  illness  of  the  minister 
and  his  consequent  inability  to  attend.  Here  was  a  dilemma  ! 
To  postpone  the  frolic  was  a  shocking  thought  to  everybody  ; 
but  to  me,  the  turn  in  aifairs  was  particularly  annoying,  when 
every  eye  was  bent  upon  me  with  a  look  which  I  could  not 
fail  to  understand,  and  if  I  had  failed  to  do  so,  it  would  not 
have  ameliorated  my  condition  in  the  least,  for  a  general  request 


116  THE  EOMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

was  immediately  made  in  so  many  plain  words,  that  I  should 
assume  the  office  of  the  absent  priest ! 

"  The  thing  seemed  so  simple  to  every  body,  except  myself, 
that  there  was  no  avoiding  it,  unless  I  doffed  my  borrowed 
plumes;  and  I  have  always  played  whatever  part  I  have  as 
sumed,  at  all  risks.  Then  the  bride-elect,  too — a  pretty  girl, 
though  of  a  rather  sunburnt  hue — considered  my  hesitation  as 
so  unnecessarily  cruel,  that  I  was  compelled  to  yield ;  and,  in 
due  time,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Megilp  united  the  happy  pair  for  better 
and  for  worse,  with  the  grave  injunction  that  what  he  had 
joined  together  no  man  should  put  asunder !  Of  course  I 
declined  all  fee  for  my  clerical  service,  even  to  the  hymeneal 
kiss.  Not  having  passed  that  way  since,  I  am  able  to  guess 
only  at  the  results  of  my  evening's  work.  I  trust,  however, 
that  they  have  been  satisfactory  to  all  parties." 

"  Megilp's  adventures,"  said  Mr.  Brownoker,  when  the 
gravity  of  our  guests  was  restored,  "  remind  me  of  a  merry 
experience  of  my  own.  Like  him,  I  was  travelling  in  the 
Cherokee  region  of  Georgia,  but  I  was  accompanied  by  a  wag 
gish  friend  more  given  to  fun  than  myself  even.  I  am  a  great 
consumer  of  the  article,  but  he  is  a  manufacturer.  He  makes 
sport  every  where,  and  of  every  thing.  Life  is  to  him  a  per 
petual  laugh. 

"  "We  were  driving  towards  the  falls  of  Tallulah.  Our  road 
lay  along  an  elevated  tract  where  water  is  rarely  abundant, 
and  just  then  a  protracted  drought  had  made  it  yet  more  scarce ; 
we  found  it  difficult  to  keep  our  horses  sufficiently  soaked,  espe 
cially  as  the  few  and  far  between  settlers  were  quite  disinclined 
to  supply  us  from  their  half-empty  wells.  In  our  dilemma 
we  thought  it  advisable  to  astonish  the  natives  a  little,  and  the 
most  facile  means  seemed  to  be  to  turn  Frenchmen,  seeing  that 
we  could  speak  the  language  execrably,  and  like  Megilp  when 
he  played  the  Grand  Turk,  were  bearded  like  the  pard.  It 


MR.  BROWNOKER'S  STORY.  117 

was  agreed  that  my  companion  should  be  totally  ignorant  of 
the  English  tongue,  while  I  should  be  barely  able  to  make 
myself  intelligible. 

"  When  we  came  within  hearing  of  the  next  house,  my 
friend  Harry  rolled  off  in  a  towering  voice,  a  Gallic  rigmarole, 
which  would  have  petrified  a  Canadian ;  and  which  speedily 
brought  an  old  woman  and  a  troop  of  white-headed  clay-eating 
urchins  to  the  door. 

"  Pointing  to  the  horse,  Harry  continued  an  earnest  and 
vigorous  discharge  of  his  strange  gibberish  at  the  ears  of  the 
bewildered  woman,  which  he  did  not  cease  for  a  moment,  not 
even  as  I  was  endeavouring  to  translate  his  speech. 

"  '  Mon  ami — my  frien — madam,  vous  demande  de  1'eau  for 
de  cheval — de  horse.' 

"  '  Sir !'  said  the  poor  woman. 

"  '  De  1'eau,  madam !  watere  for  de  horse.  You  understan' 
me,  mon  dieu  !' 

"  '  Oh  yes  !'  cried  madam,  with  beaming  intelligence.  '  I 
understand  you  a  little,  but  that  other  gentleman,  I  can't  make 
out  at  all  what  he  says.' 

" '  Yous  voyez,  madam,'  said  I,  as  we  alighted  and  were 
preparing  to  accept  her  ready  proffer  of  the  water  we  required, 
'  que  nous  sommes — zat  is,  we  are  ze  Frenchmans — we  have 
not  been  long  temps — vat  you  call  long  time,  in  dis  vilain  pays 
— dis  beautiful  countree  ;  and  nous  ne  don't  speak  English 
pas.' 

"  Every  thing  was  so  new  and  strange  to  us,  that  we  found 
it  impossible  first  to  get  the  bucket  down  the  well  and  after 
wards  to  raise  it  up ;  so  madam,  in  seeking  to  instruct  us,  had 
to  do  both  herself.  Seeing  me  especially  charmed  with  some 
bees  humming  around  the  pail,  and  seeking  with  gay  delight 
to  catch  them,  she  warned  me  that  they  would  sting. 

"  '  Mon   dieu !'  I   exclaimed,  starting  back   in   affright,  '  you 


118  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

tink  him  bite !     Sacre  bleu !   mille   tanneries !   petites  pommes 
de  terre !' 

"  At  this  moment  a  grim  suspicious  old  mastiff,  who  evi 
dently  was  not  to  be  sold  so  cheaply  as  his  mistress,  poked  his 
inquiring  nose  so  close  to  my  companion's  person  that  in  his 
alarm  he  for  an  instant  forgot  his  part,  and  cried  in  most  be- 
trayingly  intelligible  Saxon,  '  Get  out  !' 

"  The  woman  turned  with  an  odd  look  of  surprise,  first  at 
Harry  and  then  at  me. 

" '  My  frien',  madam,'  said  I,  in  explanation,  '  speak  one, 
two,  three,  leetle  word  English !  pas  de  plus !  He  say  "  verra 
well,  —  verra  well  indeed,  —  good  mornin,"  "how  you  do," 
"  I  tank  you,"  "  no  you  don't,"  "  get  out !"  Zat  is  all  I' 

"  Our  divertissement  was  so  successful,  that  we  determined 
to  continue  it  as  much  for  amusement  as  for  use.  We  passed 
neither  house  nor  traveller  without  leaving  the  wonder  behind 
us,  how  poor  devils  like  ourselves,  in  a  strange  land,  and  so 
deplorably  ignorant  of  the  language,  could  manage  to  find  our 
way  about! 

"  Venerable  gentlemen  whom  we  met  on  the  road,  took 
infinite  trouble  to  instruct  us  in  the  way,  which  we  knew  far 
better  than  they  themselves ;  even  counting  the  miles  from 
point  to  point  on  their  fingers! 

"  When  we  held  up,  for  the  night,  at  one  of  the  cabins  by 
the  wayside,  we  changed  characters,  Harry  talking  with  con 
siderable  fluency,  while  I,  having  just  left  Paris,  could  not  speak 
a  word.  When  we  were  seated  at  the  supper  table,  Harry 
inquired  if  it  was  customary  to  make  prayers. 

"  '  How  ?'  said  our  hostess. 

"  '  I  mean,  do  you  ask  for  blessings  ?' 

"  '  Oh,  ah,  yes  !     We  ask  a  blessing — yes  sir  !' 

"  Whereupon,  Harry,  with  the  gravest  air  imaginable,  and 
with  edifying  unction,  said — 


ME.  BEOWNOKER'S  STOEY.  119 

" '  0,  Saint  Patrick,  make  us  able 
To  eat  all  things  on  the  table !' 

• 

"  *  You  may  be  surprised,  madam,'  said  he,  in  reply  to  the 
astonished  look  of  the  simple  landlady,  '  but  that  is  the  way 
we  do  those  things  in  our  country !'  As  supper  proceeded, 
Harry  continued  to  explain  the  customs  of  his  country,  and 
so  novel  were  they  to  myself,  and  so  grotesque  the  stories  which 
he  told  of  my  own  life  and  character,  that  it  was  with  great 
difficulty  I  could  keep  my  countenance  and  save  myself  from 
laughing  outright. 

"  At  another  time  we  attempted  a  negotiation  for  the  pur 
chase  of  some  watermelons  and  peaches,  neither  of  which  we 
had  ever  seen  before.  The  melon  we  would  not  buy  unless 
permitted  to  taste  it,  which  the  man  seemed  to  consider  a  very 
unreasonable  demand;  and  the  peaches  we  half  devoured  in 
successive  and  dubious  trials  of  their  flavour;  we  affected  to 
take  the  things  as  a  present,  and  made  the  poor  fellow  nearly 
crazy  in  his  efforts  to  explain  to  us  that  they  were  to  be  sold 
and  not  given  away.  At  last,  in  despair  of  comprehending 
each  other,  we  gave  the  fruiterer  some  change  and  bade  him 
bon  jour. 

"It  happened,  that  while  Harry  was  thus  jabbering  to  a 
maiden  by  a  brook-side,  he  was  overheard  by  a  party  of  ladies 
and  gentlemen  who  approached  at  the  moment,  on  their  way, 
like  ourselves,  to  the  Falls.  As  we  expected  to  stay  some 
time  at  Tallulah,  we  did  not  intend  to  continue  our  rather  diffi 
cult  role  while  there ;  but  after  committing  ourselves  as  we  had 
with  our  fellow  tourists,  Harry  was  bent  upon  'going  through,' 
as  he  said.  And  'go  through,'  and  bravely,  too,  he  did,  until 
the  second  night  as  he  was  smoking  upon  the  piazza,  within 
hearing  of  a  love-making  pair  from  the  'low  countree,'  the  lady 
cautioned  her  gallant  to  speak  less  loudly. 


120  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

"  '  Oh !'  said  Lovelace,  '  he's  nothing  but  a  stupid  dolt  of 
a  Frenchman,  and  does  not  understand  a  word  we  say ;'  and 
the  soft  dialogue  went  on  unreservedly. 

"  The  character  of  this  amorous  tryst  and  talk  was  of  so 
pleasing  a  kind,  and  that  of  the  swain  so  displeasing  to  Harry, 
that  he  could  not  refrain  from  confiding  it  to  me,  and  I  to 
others,  until  at  length  my  friend  was  unmasked ;  at  first  with 
every  prospect  of  coffee  and  pistols,  but  afterwards  to  his  own 
and  everybody  else's  entire  satisfaction  and  extreme  amuse 
ment. 

"  Two  or  three  years  later  I  was  again  travelling  this  same 
road,  but  with  a  different  companion.  Recalling  the  incidents  of 
my  former  journey,  I  promised ,  him,  should  we  be  able  to  find 
the  house  where  we  had  passed  our  first  night  on  that  occasion, 
to  resume  my  character  of  foreigner.  But  the  day  was  waning, 
and  fearful  of  the  approaching  darkness,  we  were  constrained 
to  seek  quarters  without  delay.  Coming  to  what  seemed  to 
us  as  comfortable  ones  as  we  might  expect,  we  held  a  pleasant 
talk,  in  good  English,  of  course,  with  the  old  man  as  we 
bespoke  his  hospitality.  Judge  of  our  surprise  and  vexation, 
when  we  entered  the  house  and  found  it  to  be  the  very  one 
of  which  we  had  been  in  search !  As  it  was  then  too  late  to 
resume  my  former  r61e,  I  determined  to  ignore  it  altogether. 

"  Down  we  sat  in  the  same  little  shed-room,  upon  the  same 
low  chairs,  to  the  same  high  table ;  the  same  old  hostess  in 
the  same  place,  and  I  too,  seated  as  two  years  before. 

" '  I  reckon,'  said  madam,  after  eyeing  me  with  long  and 
close  scrutiny,  'that  you  have  travelled  this  road  afore?' 

"  '  My  first  visit  to  these  parts,  madam !'  said  I,  coolly ;  at 
the  same  time  passing  my  cup  for  additional  coffee. 

"  For  a  while  she  was  silent,  but  at  length  renewed  her 
attack. 


MR.  BROWNOKER'S  STORY.  121 

"  'You  remind  me  so  much,'  said  she,  'of  a  gentleman  who 
was  here  two  years  ago !' 

"  '  Ah  !'  I  answered,  indifferently. 

" '  Yes !'  said  she,  after  another  pause,  and  resuming  the 
thread  of  her  reverie  as  if  no  interval  had  occurred  in  the 
conversation.  '  Yes !  very  much !  You  are  powerful  like  him, 
though  you  don't  talk  like  him.  He  was  a  Frenchman,  I  think 
he  said;  and  I  couldn't  make  any  sense  of  a  word  he  spoke. 
All  but  your  talk,  you  are  just  as  like  him  as  two  peas.  But 
that  other  man,  there,  ain't  a  bit  like  the  one  who  was  with 
him.' 

"I  affected  to  pay  little  attention  to  what  my  hostess  was 
saying,  but  my  friend  had  to  choke  down  his  merriment  with 
his  handkerchief  and  a  sudden  cough. 

"At  last,  as  the  old  lady  continued  to  wonder  at  my  sin 
gular  resemblance  to  her  former  guest,  I  asked  her  if  he  was 
so  and  so,  this,  that,  and  the  other. 

" '  Just  so !  exactly  I  that's  him  to  a  dot !'  said  she  in  reply 
to  all  my  questions. 

"  '  Ah  !'  said  I,  laughing.  '  Now  I  understand  it.  I  know 
who  you  are  talking  of;  wonder  I  did  not  think  of  him  be 
fore!'  And  then,  addressing  my  tortured  friend,  I  continued: 
'  It  must  be  Massareau  and  his  brother !  of  course !' 

"  '  Massareau — Francois  Massareau  and  his  brother !'  said  I, 
speaking  conclusively  to  our  hostess.  '  They  are  Frenchmen ; 
live  near  me ;  I  know  them  well ;  have  heard  them  speak  of 
their  visit  to  Tallulah — two  years  ago  did  you  say?' 

"  '  Yes,  two  years,  exactly.' 

"  '  Exactly !'  said  I.  '  They  were  here  at  that  time.  Do 
you  know  I  have  been  often  mistaken  for  Francois ;  people 
have  come  to  me  talking  a  string  of  stuff,  outlandish  lingo  that 
I  couldn't  make  head  or  tail  of;  and  I  have  had  the  greatest 


122  THE   KOMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

trouble  to  convince  them  that  they  had  got  hold  of  the  wrong 
passenger.' 

"  This  explanation  quite  cleared  up  the  mystery  and  set 
the  old  lady's  mind  at  rest  for  the  balance  of  our  stay. 

"But  my  story  is  not  yet  told;  after  the  lapse  of  another 
two  years  I  was  a  third  time  travelling  this  road,  and  now, 
again,  with  my  first  companion.  I  had  narrated  to  him  the 
continuation  of  our  play  at  the  old  lady's,  and  we  were  careful 
to  pass  another  night  under  her  roof  and  to  resume  the  style 
and  character  of  '  Frangois  Massareau  and  his  brother.'  I,  of 
course,  was  to  have  learned  in  the  lapse  of  four  years  to  speak 
the  langauge  sufficiently  to  make  myself  understood. 

"  The  old  woman  was  more  dumbfounded  than  ever,  when 
I  disavowed  all  knowledge  of  the  last  visit  I  had  made  her, 
and  claimed  identity  with  the  hero  of  the  first  only;  but  my 
broken  speech  and  the  mention  of  my  name  of  Massareau  set 
her  right  again,  and  she  entertained  us  through  the  evening 
with  a  description  of  my  last  visit,  and  of  the  terrible  bothera 
tion  into  which  my  wonderful  likeness  to  myself  had  thrown 
her.  On  my  second  visit  I  had  taken  occasion  to  give  so  good 
an  account  of  M.  Frangois  Massareau,  that  now,  he  received  the 
heartiest  welcome  and  care.  Whether,  the  next  time  I  go 
there,  I  shall  be  myself,  or  somebody  else,  I  cannot  say!" 

"  Notwithstanding  the  narrowed  ambition  and  the  primi 
tive  manners  of  these  mountaineers  in  their  .quiet  insulated  life," 
said  Mr.  Flakewhite,  as  our  waggish  historian  ended  his  grave 
anecdotes,  "you  may  yet  find  them  dreaming  day-dreams  and 
nursing  gentle  thoughts  of  beauty  and  love,  no  less  than  the 
dainty  dwellers  in  more  cultured  lands.  In  attestation  of  this 
remark  I  could  tell  you  a  simple  yet  romantic  history,  con 
nected  with  the  very  spot  we  are  now  visiting." 

"  You  will  place  us  under  great  obligations,"  said  the  chair 
man. 


KITTY,    THE   WOODMAN'S  DAUGHTER.  123 

"  By  all  means  let  us  hear  Flakewhite's  experience  1"  said 
everybody  else. 

And  without  further  prelude,  the  brother  began  his  record 
of  the  joys  and  sorrows  of 


Jiittjj,  %  SStwtotatt^  iaug|te:. 


"  I  had  spent  a  long  and  happy  season  at  the  beautiful 
Falls  of  Tallulah,  scarcely  conscious  of  the  lapse  of  time  as  I 
wandered  and  mused  and  studied,  day  after  day,  amidst  the 
ever  varying  scene  ;  my  mercurial  humour  leading  me,  at  one 
hour,  merrily  along  the  pebbly  marge  of  the  prattling  brooklet, 
coquetting  with  the  gay  sunshine  as  if  it  never  dreamed  of 
a  ruder  life  ;  and,  anon,  irresistibly  dragging  me  down,  as  the 
fabled  water  wraiths  drew  their  fated  victims,  into  the  gloomy 
and  ghostly  shades  of  the  dark  weird  chasms,  where  the  late 
careless  waters  were  madly  struggling  with  the  giant  rocks 
and  the  ingulphing  precipice;  or,  when  in  a  more  social  vein, 
I  would  set  off  with  my  host  and  other  worthies  of  the  woods 
in  quest  of  the  bounding  deer,  returning  at  night  to  chat  over 
the  fortunes  of  the  day  and  exchange  tales  of  past  prowess. 
To  all  these  agreeable  occupations,  there  was  pleasantly  added 
such  thoughts  as  I  could  draw  from  the  glimpses  of  the  great 
world  beyond,  which  the  constant,  though  quiet  current  of 
summer  visitors  afforded  me. 

"By  and  by  the  sorrowing  winds  of  autumn  came  to  deepen 
the  wailing  chant  of  the  waters,  and  the  spirit  of  the  place 
grew  oppressive  in  its  loneliness  and  sadness.  Even  the  kindly 
humour  of  my  host  and  the  society  of  his  strangely  interesting 
family,  so  entirely  failed  to  relieve  the  deepening  gloom  of 
my  reveries,  that  I  determined  to  seek  brighter  and  more  cheer- 


124  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

ful  scenes.  It  was  on  the  eve  of  my  departure,  that  I  was 
commiserating  my  worthy  host  upon  the  untowardness  of  his 
lot,  on  being  chained  forever  to  so  lonely  and  desolate  a  home, 
when  he  assured  me,  with  a  smile,  that  he  found  in  his  secluded 
dells  a  thousand  grateful  objects  for  thought  and  study,  which 
those  habituated  to  more  brilliant  and  more  busy  scenes  never 
suspected  to  exist. 

"  '  It  is  not  alone,'  said  he,  '  in  your  great  cities  that  the 
romance  of  thought  and  action  is  to  be  found.  Even  in  these 
thinly  peopled  woods,  the  observant  eye  may  read  life's  his 
tories,  its  smiles  and  tears,  in  the  perpetual  rehearsal  of  all  the 
acts  and  scenes  in  both  the  comedy  and  tragedy  of  life.  If 
you  please,  I  will  tell  you  a  simple  tale  of  love  and  ambition, 
which  may  read  as  pleasantly  as  any  stories  to  be  gathered 
in  your  thronged  streets  and  crowded  saloons.' 

"' Indeed,'  I  answered,  'I  should  of  all  things  like  to  hear 
your  history.' 

"  '  You  must  not  anticipate  too  much,'  said  he,  observing 
my  look  of  eager  expectation.  '  My  heroine  is  but  a  simple 
country  lass.  One  of  that  untaught  class  whom  you  derisively 
call  "crackers."  Let  me  see — what  shall  I  name  her?  Kitty? 
Yes,  Kitty  it  shall  be,  after  my  good  wife.  "Kitty,  the  wood 
man's  daughter." ' 

"  Kitty,  at  that  hour  of  her  life  of  which  I  am  speaking, 
was  just  upon  the  mystic  threshold  of  womanhood.  As  she 
was  herself  well  enough  aware,  she  was  a  provokingly  pretty 
lass,  and  when  her  country  beaux  told  her  so  in  their  plain 
frank  way,  she  made  the  sweetest  of  scornful  mouths,  and  won 
dered  why  they  could  not  tell  her  something  new.  In  the 
city  she  would  soon  have  been  quite  spoiled — no,  not  quite, 
for  despite  her  vanity  and  coquetry,  there  was  at  the  bottom 
of  her  nature  a  truth  and  goodness  which  nothing  could  spoil. 
It  was  the  unconscious  perception  of  these  better  and  deeper 


KITTY,   THE   WOODMAN'S   DAUGHTER.  125 

traits  of  Kitty's  character,  which  made  her  rude  admirers  so 
readily  forgive  all  her  pretty  imperious  disdain.  Though  af 
flicted,  as  she  thought,  with  incorrigibly  rosy  health,  there  was 
a  native  grace  and  delicacy  in  her  whole  person  and  manner, 
and  a  sentiment  of  refinement  in  all  her  tastes  and  feelings, 
which  seemed  to  lift  her  far  above  the  social  grade  of  her 
kindred  and  fellows.  Her  parents  were  too  proud  of  these 
attractions  in  their  "little  lady,"  as  they  delighted  to  call  her, 
to  notice  their  dangerous  tendency ;  how  they  were  filling  her 
young  dreaming  heart  with  aspirations  above  the  position  in 
which  fortune  had  placed  her ;  aspirations  which  might  some 
day  lure  their  pretty  butterfly  far  beyond  their  own  narrow 
reach.  This  danger  they  did  not  perceive,  much  less  the  fatal 
nourishment  it  drew  from  the  fascinating  glimpses  of  a  prouder 
and  more  beautiful  life,  which  Kitty  saw  in  the  society  of  the 
summer  visitants  to  the  Falls ;  who  were  at  once  attracted  by 
her  beauty  and  wit,  and  to  whose  manners  and  tastes  she 
assimilated  herself  as  by  instinct.  Though  she  did  not  neg 
lect,  yet  she  would  hasten  her  household  toils,  that  she  might 
talk  with  the  fair  girls  from  the  lowlands  about  the  glittering 
scenes  of  their  own  gay  life,  and  they,  pleased  with  her  eager 
curiosity  and  interest,  would  open  her  beaming  eyes  to  a  thou 
sand  seductive  pictures.  The  elegant  compliments,  too,  of  the 
gentlemen,  charmed  her  beyond  measure,  though  she  received 
their  honeyed  speeches  with  a  mixture  of  girlish  simplicity  and 
womanly  sense,  which  was  an  effectual  antidote  to  any  poison 
they  bore,  beyond  a  fostering  of  her  thoughtless  vanity  and 
vague  ambition.  How  proudly  she  looked  down  upon  her 
country  mates,  as  she  familiarly  walked  or  rode  by  the  side 
of  the  city  ladies!  and  with  what  a  queenly  air  she  saluted 
her  rustic  swains  when  she  encountered  them,  as  she  coquetted 
with  her  more  elegant  admirers ! 

"  Kitty,    at    this    time,    was    rapidly   cherishing  a  spirit    of 


126  THE  ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

discontent  with  her  humble  sphere.  She  dreamed  of  gay 
dresses,  and  perfumed  gloves,  and  delicate  slippers,  while  she 
looked  at  her  own  simple  wardrobe.  She  thought  of  soft  car 
pets,  as  she  scornfully  trod  the  fragrant,  flowery  greensward; 
and  of  piano-fortes  and  opera-airs,  as  she  turned  a  wearied 
ear  from  the  carols  of  the  birds  in  the  tree-tops.  Even  when 
the  winter  days  came  and  she  was  again  cast  upon  the  society 
of  her  own  home,  only,  the  fatal  spell  still  influenced  her, 
through  the  luring  voice  of  the  light  books  which  her  summer 
friends  had  left  behind  them ;  just  such  books  as  she  could 
read  with  the  least  possible  advantage,  especially  in  her  then 
romantic  humour. 

"  She  would  muse  over  these  fascinating  pages  by  the  even 
ing  fire-side,  to  the  entire  forgetfulness  of  the  gossip  around 
her,  and  until  she  grew  unable  to  listen,  even  with  patience, 
to  the  homely  talk  of  the  few  country  lads  who  were  still 
bold  enough  to  approach  her.  They  were  few,  indeed,  and 
daily  diminishing  in  number,  in  the  frostiness  of  her  fine  lady 
airs ;  for  to  men  untaught  in  the  gallantries  of  courtly  society, 
there  is  no  object  in  the  world  so  awe-inspiring  as  the  presence 
of  a  proud  and  beautiful  woman. 

"  While  her  timid  suitors  thus  one  after  the  other  withdrew, 
there  was  one,  the  humblest  of  them  all,  who  still  lingered  in 
her  train.  Night  after  night,  poor  Davy,  as  he  was  called, 
would  come  to  her  father's  hearth,  and,  while  talking  of  the 
chase  or  of  the  crops  with  the  honest  woodman,  would  watch 
the  loved  features  of  his  absent-minded  or  preoccupied  Kitty. 
Now  Kitty  had  a  sort  of  liking  for  Davy,  but  it  had  never 
entered  into  her  haughty  head  that  he,  of  all  her  associates, 
could  by  any  possibility  aspire  to  any  higher  sort  of  interest 
in  her  heart;  and,  for  this  very  reason,  no  doubt,  she  often 
deigned  to  show  the  lad  much  more  consideration  than  she 
bestowed  upon  his  betters.  Indeed,  she  honoured  him  with 


KITTY,   THE  WOODMAN'S   DAUGHTER.  127 

confidences  she  would  have  shrunk  from  imparting  to  any  of 
her  own  sex.  She  would  tell  him  cf  her  proud  dreams  and 
exalted  fancies.  Once  she  treated  him  to  a  full  length  picture 
of  the  extraordinary  gentleman  for  whom  she  was  saving  up 
her  little  heart ;  a  picture  in  which  the  unhappy  Davy  could 
detect  no  resemblance  whatever  to  himself. 

"  The  winter  was  the  golden  season  of  our  hero's  life,  for 
then  he  enjoyed  an  access  to  the  shrine  of  his  silent  worship, 
from  which  he  was  barred  in  the  warm  months  by  the  inter 
vention  of  more  favoured  supplicants.  These  brighter  days  of 
the  year — sadder  ones  to  Davy — were  again  returning;  but, 
as  a  last  ray  of  his  passing  sunshine,  Kitty  had,  to  his  great 
delight,  invited  him  to  accompany  her  on  a  visit  to  the  Falls, 
Nature  was  donning  her  gayest  attire,  and  her  hopeful  smiles 
won  responsive  gladness  from  the  blithe  heart  of  our  Kitty, 
dreamily  expectant  of  coming  pleasures.  Davy  thought  that 
he  had  never  seen  her  looking  so  beautiful,  and  he  watched 
her  with  loving  anxiety  as  she  flew  with  mad  temerity  from 
rock  to  rock,  up  and  down  the  frightful  ravine. 

"  '  Don't,  0  don't,  Kitty !'  he  would  cry,  in  painful  alarm 
at  her  daring.  '  Please,  don't !  If  you  should  fall  into  the 
water,  what  should  I  do ' 

"  '  What  should  you  do,  indeed !  Why  fish  me  out  to  be 
sure !  A  pretty  beau  you  are,  not  to  know  what  to  do  in  such 
a  simple  case !'  and  on  she  would  fly  over  yet  more  danger 
ous  paths. 

"  At  length,  as  if  to  vindicate  the  reasonableness  of  Davy's 
fears,  while  rounding  a  narrow  ledge,  her  foot  slipped,  and 
she  fell — into  the  arms,  not,  alas!  of  her  honest  cicerone,  but 
of  a  new-comer,  who,  happily  for  her,  was  at  that  timely  in 
stant  turning  the  rocky  corner  from  the  opposite  side. 

"  The  stranger  smiled,  as  he  placed  her  in  safety  upon  her 
wilful  feet,  with  a  playful  reproof  of  her  reckless  courage; 


128  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

and  Kitty,  conquering  the  blush  which  mantled  her  face  as 
she  noticed  that  her  protector  was  a  stranger  and  a  '  gentle 
man,'  expressed  her  thanks  in  very  proper  phrase ;  so  gracefully, 
indeed,  as  to  win  him  to  linger  by  her  side  in  her  further  wan 
derings  about  the  gorge ;  and,  as  to  lead  him,  when  they 
regained  the  spot  of  their  first  meeting,  and  Kitty  intimated 
her  intention  of  returning  home,  to  insist  upon  accompanying 
her. 

"'Besides,'  said  he,  urging  his  request,  which  she  had  half 
denied,  and  pointing  to  Davy,  still  rooted  to  the  place  from 
whence  he  had  witnessed  her  lucky  escape,  '  our  young  friend, 
there,  takes  such  poor  care  of  you,  that  I  can  no  more  trust 
you  to  him  than  to  yourself!' 

"  '  Oh !  I  thank  you !'  said  Kitty.  '  It  was  not  Davy's 
fault!  I  have  but  a  little  way  to  go,  only  to  the  first  house 
on  the  road,  which  you  must  have  travelled  in  coming  here.' 

" '  Ah !  so  your  father  lives  at  the  first  house,  does  he  ? 
Then  you  can't  prevent  my  going  with  you,  for  that  is  my 
home,  too,  for  a  while.  And  so,'  he  continued,  looking  at  the 
young  girl  with  sincere  interest,  'you  are  that  Kitty  of  whom 
I  have  heard  my  sister  Nora — Miss  Waller,  talk  so  much !' 

"  '  Nora ! — Miss  "Waller !'  cried  Kitty,  in  delighted  surprise. 
'  And,  are  you  her  brother ' 

"  '  Charles  Waller — like  my  sister,  your  old,  good  friend, 
if  you  will  let  it  be  so,'  said  the  gentleman,  gaily. 

"  Kitty  readily  accepted  the  proffered  friendship,  both  fu 
ture  and  retrospective,  for  the  stranger's  sister  was  the  best 
beloved  of  all  her  gay  summer  friends.  She  had  countless 
questions  to  ask  about  her,  and  when  they  were  answered, 
there  came  other  things  to  talk  of,  so  that  their  long  walk 
seemed  not  half  long  enough,  to  Kitty,  at  least,  when  it 
brought  them  to  her  father's  door. 

"Honest   Davy   had   trudged  on  behind,    all    the   while,    in 


KITTY,   THE   WOODMAN'S   DAUGHTER.  129 

a  much  less  happy  mood  than  that  in  which  he  had  begun 
the  excursion ;  his  jealous  heart  drawing  most  discouraging 
comparisons  between  his  new  rival  and  himself — comparisons 
which,  in  justice  to  Kitty,  we  must  say,  it  never  occurred  to 
herself  to  make. 

"  A  cordial  companionship  was  soon  established  between 
Kitty  and  her  guest.  Her  merry,  pleasant  society,  often  be 
guiled  him  from  his  studies,  and  she  was  not  unfrequently 
the  sharer  of  his  long  forest- walks.  He  taught  her  the  mystery 
of  the  pencil,  as  his  sister  had  before  initiated  her  into  the  de 
lights  of  music.  Sometimes,  too,  he  playfully  helped  her  in 
her  household  cares,  even  to  the  making  of  the  pies,  and  the 
milking  of  the  cows. 

"  Our  slighted  Davy  looked  with  an  evil  eye  upon  this 
unwelcome  intimacy,  but  he  knew  not  how  to  check  it.  If 
he  were  cross,  Kitty  would  scold,  and  Charles  would  laugh; 
but  so  kindly,  that  he  felt  himself  compelled  to  gratitude, 
rather  than  to  resentment.  Indeed,  despite  himself,  he  soon 
grew  to  like  Charles,  and  to  become  his  constant  and  willing 
attendant  in  his  rambles,  as  he  sketched  or  hunted.  Perhaps 
he  was  not  unconscious  of  the  advantage  which  the  association 
was  to  him,  for  he  had  something  of  Kitty's  own  gift  of  as 
similation,  a  gift  which  was  now  manifesting  itself  in  a  way 
which  surprised  even  Kitty  herself,  since  she  had  never  con 
sidered  Davy  a  genius,  either  developed  or  undeveloped. 

"  As  the  weeks  rolled  by,  and,  especially,  as  new  guests 
came  to  her  father's  house,  Kitty's  manner  towards  Charles 
underwent  a  very  noticeable  change.  She  did  not  meet  him 
with  the  same  sisterly  frankness,  or  in  the  same  merry  humour. 
Charles,  at  such  times,  thinking  he  had  unwittingly  offended 
her,  would  seek  to  atone  by  greater  kindness  for  his  fancied 
faults.  Little  suspecting  his  real,  though  unintentional  crime — 
the  theft  of  the  poor  girl's  simple  heart — his  attempted  repara- 
9' 


130  THE  ROMANCE    OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

tion  but  increased  his  guilt;  for  the  more  he  sought  to  regain 
the  ground  he  fancied  that  he  had  lost  in  her  esteem,  the  more 
she  loved,  and  the  more  she  still  avoided  him. 

"  On  one  occasion,  to  call  back  her  truant  gaiety,  he  showed 
her  some  of  his  pictures  which  she  had  not  yet  seen.  Among 
them  was  a  portrait  of  his  sister,  with  which  Kitty  was  espe 
cially  delighted. 

"'And  now,'  said  he,  with  a  smile,  'you  shall  see  another 
picture — that  of  my  sister's  best  friend ;'  and,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  he  displayed  another  face  of  such  winning  sweetness, 
that  Kitty  silently  wondered  if  there  could  be  any  living  woman 
so  beautiful ! 

"  '  It  is,'  said  Charles,  reading  her  unspoken  thought,  '  not 
half  so  lovely  as  the  original!  I  am  sure  you  will  love  her 
self  much  more  than  you  admire  her  picture  !' 

"  '  I,'  said  Kitty.     '  How  shall  I  ever  see  her  ?' 

"  '  She  is  coming  soon.' 

"  '  Coming  here  !' 

"  '  Yes,  with  my  sister.  Why  don't  you  congratulate  me, 
Kitty  ?' 

"  '  Because,  because,'  answered  Kitty,  blushing.  '  Because 
I ' 

"  '  Now  be  a  good  Kitty,  and  say  that  it  is  because  they 
will  take  me  away  with  them !  Well,  Kitty,  there  can  be  no 
pleasure  without  its  pain;  and,  I  assure  you,  that  to  leave  you 
and  all  these  beautiful  scenes,  where  I  have  lived  so  long, 
and  enjoyed  myself  so  much,  is  a  great  drawback  to  my  plea 
sure  now.' 

"  Kitty  made  but  an  awkward  reply,  either  to  the  raillery, 
or  the  regard,  in  Charles'  speech ;  for  a  new  and  absorbing 
thought  grew  in  her  mind,  as  she  still  looked  at  the  picture. 

"  '  And  is  she  the  lady  who  writes  you  so  many  letters  ?' 
she  asked  at  last,  with  a  faint  smile. 


KITTY,    THE   WOODMAN'S   DAUGHTER.  131 

"  '  Ah. !  what  an  inquisitive  little  Kitty !  Has  Davy  never 
written  you  any  letters?' 

"  '  Davy  !   write  me  letters  !' 

"'Oh!  I  remember,  he  has  never  been  away  from  you! 
But  0,  Kitty,  the  ink  and  paper  he  would  have  wasted,  if  he 
had  been!' 

"  '  Davy — write — me — letters !'  said  Kitty,  again,  in  increased 
astonishment. 

"  '  Why,  he  looks  a  hundred  letters  to  you,  every  time  he 
brings  me  one !' 

"  '  I  hate  him !'  cried  Kitty,  with  sudden  vehemence. 

" { Hate  him !  Hate  good,  honest  Davy !'  said  Charles, 
gravely.  '  But  that  is  a  pity,  for  he  loves  you  dearly.' 

" '  No,  no,  never !  I  hate  him !'  repeated  Kitty,  giving 
vent  to  the  fast  flowing  tears,  as  she  hastened  out  of  the  room. 

"  While  rapidly  passing  through  the  general  sitting-room 
on  her  way  to  her  own  apartment,  she  was  stopped  by  some 
strangers,  who  had  at  that .  moment  arrived ;  and  in  an  instant 
she  was  in  the  arms  of  her  friend  Nora,  whose  efforts  to  kiss 
away  her  unwonted  tears,  were  seconded  by  the  fair  original 
of  Charles'  treasured  portrait. 

"  '  And  my  brother,  Kitty,  have  you  taken  good  care  of 
him  ?  Ah,  if  you  have  not,  Caro'  here,  will  help  me  scold 
you,  as  she  has  just  helped  me  kiss  you  !' 

"  '  He,  he  is — in  his  room,'  said  Kitty,  as  she  hurried  away, 
on  hearing  Charles'  bounding  step  following  the  sound  of  his 
sister's  voice. 

"  Her  abrupt  flight  was  unnoticed,  in  the  glad  meeting  of 
Charles  and  his  friends,  and  neither  of  them  thought  of  her 
again,  until  they  met  her  at  the  tea-table,  when  her  strange 
and  abstracted  mood  was  a  matter  of  general  and  curious 
remark. 

"  '  What,'  said  Nora,  when  she  was  again  alone  with  Charles 


132  THE   KOMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

and  Caro' — as  she  called  her  companion — '  What  is  the  matter 
with   Kitty  ?      So   different  from   what  she   was   last  summer  I' 

"  '  And  to  what  she  has  been  until  to-day,'  said  Charles. 
'  Some  quarrel,  I  suppose,  with  Davy !' 

"  '  Davy !'  said  Nora,  '  that  reminds  me  how  greatly  he  has 
improved  since  my  last  year's  visit !  And  is  he  as  much 
devoted  to  Kitty  as  ever?' 

"  '  He  loves  her  to  distraction,'  said  Charles,  '  and  I  do  not 
doubt  but  that  she  loves  him,  for  he  is  almost  the  only  one 
of  her  swains  whom  she  admits  to  her  intimacy.  We  must 
manage  to  effect  a  reconciliation  between  them.'  And  then 
Charles  broke  out  into  a  long  catalogue  of  the  praises  of  Kitty, 
extolling  her  as  the  sunlight  of  his  life  at  the  Falls. 

"  Caro'  listened  silently  and  thoughtfully,  divining  at  once  a 
secret,  which  Charles  had  failed  to  read,  plainly  as  it  had  been 
shown  to  him.  But,  then,  Charles'  and  Caro's  interest  in  the 
matter  was  widely  different. 

"  In  the  days  which  followed,  Caro'  devoted  herself  to  Kitty, 
with  assiduous  kindness,  and  soon  drew  from  her,  without  her 
knowledge,  sufficient  confirmation  of  her  fears.  Without  seem 
ing  to  do  so,  she  sought,  with  all  her  powers,  to  cure  her  of 
her  unhappy  passion,  and  to  make  her  sensible  of  the  worth 
and  the  love  of  her  ill -appreciated  Davy.  This  she  did  for 
Davy's  own  sake,  as  well  as  for  Kitty's ;  as  she  really  felt  for 
his  generous  character  all  the  respect  she  was  so  careful  to 
show. 

"Kitty's  nature  was  too  gentle  to  cherish  unkind  thoughts, 
and  she  had,  excepting  at  moments  of  egarement,  too  much 
good  sense  to  struggle  against  impossibilities.  She  soon  loved 
Caro'  too  earnestly,  even,  to  wish  to  stand  in  the  way  of  her 
happiness;  and  she  felt  that  her  own  rash  dreams  were  vain 
enough,  when  she  contrasted  the  accomplished  and  beautiful 
lady  with  the  ignorant  country  girl. 


KITTY,    THE   WOODMAN'S   DAUGHTER.  133 

"  And  .yet,  all  this  was  no  panacea  to  her  stricken  heart,  in 
which  all  was  still  dark  and  hopeless.  She  had  loved  without 
reason,  and  so  she  now  grieved  and  despaired.  At  wilder  mo 
ments,  she  even  consoled  herself,  in  the  same  mad  way  as  she 
sought  to  believe,  that,  after  all,  Charles  might  love  her ;  that 
his  interest  in  Caro',  and  hers  in  him,  was  only  a  terrible 
dream. 

"  It  was  while  suffering  the  feverish  excitement  of  an  illusion 
of  this  kind,  that  she  one  day  stealthily  followed  Caro'  and 
Charles,  in  their  stroll  to  the  Falls.  Having  lost  sight  of  them 
when  she  came  to  the  bed  of  the  ravine,  she  again  sought  the 
fatal  rock  where  Charles  had  so  opportunely  arrested  her  falter 
ing  steps.  She  looked,  as  she  then  stood,  long  and  thought 
fully,  into  the  angry  waters.  A  strange  smile  stole  to  her  lips, 
and  quickly  passed,  as  she  caught  the  sound  of  familiar  voices, 
close  to  her,  on  the  other  side  of  the  rock.  Caro'  was  speaking. 
She  listened  with  painful  intentness. 

"  '  I  tell  you,  Charles,  the  poor  child  loves  you !'  said  the 
lady,  'and,  but  for  the  egotism  of  your  love  for  me,  you  would 
have  discovered  the  truth  long  ago !' 

"'Nonsense,  Caro',  dear!  she  could  not  be  so  silly,  so  mad! 
she  has  too  much  good  sense — she  loves  Davy,  I  tell  you,  which 
is  a  much  more  rational  exploit !' 

"  Kitty's  life — the  spark,  which  alone  was  left — went  out,  at 
these  words.  Had  time  been  left  her  for  reflection,  she  would 
have  struggled,  and  successfully,  against  the  dark  feelings  which 
now  filled  her  wretched  soul ; — but  she  gave  only  a  despairing 
glance  at  the  bitter  past,  and  at  the  desolate  future,  and,  in  a 
moment,  the  sinister  smile  returned  to  her  lips ;  and  springing, 
without  a  cry,  from  the  precipice,  her  fair  form  was  buried 
beneath  the  white-crested  water. 

"  Amidst  the  din  of  the  rapids,  no  sound  of  this  dark  deed, 
which  their  words  had  hastened,  came  to  the  ears  of  the  lovers ; 


134  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

but  there  was  an  eye  which,  unobserved,  had  watched  the 
whole  fatal  scene. 

"  This  vigilant  sentinel  was  none  other  than  our  useful 
friend  Davy.  He  had  not  failed  to  notice  the  recent  deplorable 
change  in  Kitty's  humour,  nor  to  guess  the  cause.  Suffering 
scarcely  less  than  herself,  he  had  seen  her  follow  in  pursuit 
of  Caro'  and  Charles,  and  had  himself  joined  the  chase,  though 
at  a  prudent  distance.  As  she  approached  the  Falls,  her  speed 
ing  figure  was  alternately  present  and  lost  to  his  sight,  as  his 
changing  position  enlarged  or  contracted  his  view.  Eeaching 
an  overlooking  bluff,  he  had,  with  terror,  for  a  moment  seen 
her  standing  upon  the  scene  of  her  former  misadventure ;  and 
his  fright  increased  to  agony  when  his  next  glimpse  of  the 
rock  showed  it  unoccupied.  Terrible  as  was  his  interpretation 
of  the  mystery  of  her  sudden  disappearance,  he  could  find  no 
other  explanation.  Acting  upon  his  fearful  thought,  he  flew, 
almost  breathless  with  dismay,  toward  the  fatal  spot. 

"  Finding  no  trace  of  the  fugitive,  hope  returned  for  a  mo 
ment  to  his  heart,  still  but  faintly ;  and  he  continued  his  search, 
forebodingly,  and  minutely  exploring  every  recess  of  the  neigh 
bourhood.  At  length,  he  thought  he  saw  something  white 
entangled  in  the  bushes  which  overhung  the  opposite  edge 
of  the  cascade,  and  boldly  plunging  into  the  torrent,  he  secured 
the  object,  and  drew  towards  the  shore  the  lifeless  body  of  his 
cherished  Kitty.  The  unfortunate  girl  was  cold  and  motionless, 
her  eyes  open  and  staring.  Davy,  in  his  horror,  made  the 
woods  echo  with  his  shouts,  but  without  avail.  At  one  mo 
ment,  he  thought  that  he  would  die  with  her;  but  the  next, 
fancying,  as  he  pressed  her  cold  form  to  his  own  throbbing 
heart,  and  bathed  her  marble  lips  with  his  warm  kisses,  that 
she  still  breathed,  he  abandoned  the  idea  of  dying,  and  set 
vigorously  to  work  to  recall  his  charge  to  life.  It  was  a  long 
time,  however,  before  any  certain  hope  of  returning  conscious- 


KITTY,    THE   WOODMAN'S   DAUGHTER.  135 

ness  blessed  liis  efforts.  It  was  too  far  to  carry  her  home,  if  her 
condition  had  permitted  such  an  attempt;  so  he  made  a  swel 
tering  fire,  and  half  buried  her  in  the  warm  ashes ;  breathing, 
the  while,  with  the  full  force  of  his  strong  lungs,  the  breath 
of  life  into  her  pulseless  veins.  It  was  a  joyous  moment  for 
Davy  when  she  at  last  raised  her  arms,  and  they  fell  upon  his 
neck. 

"  '  Where — where  am  I  ?'  were  the  first  words  she  asked. 

"  '  You  are  safe — safe,  at  last,  dear  Kitty.     I  saved  you !' 

"  '  You,  Davy — you — saved  me !'  said  the  poor  girl,  faintly, 
and  trying  to  recall  her  wandering  faculties.  'Ah  !  I — I  re 
member — now!'  and  she  clung  more  closely  to  her  faithful 
protector. 

"  The  alarm,  of  the  good  people  at  the  cabin  was  extreme, 
when  hours  passed  away  without  any  sign  of  the  return  either 
of  Kitty  or  Davy.  Charles  remembered  to  have  caught  a 
glimpse,  once  or  twice,  of  a  woman,  on  his  way  to  the  Falls, 
and  though  he  did  not  remark  her  particularly  at  the  time, 
he  now  thought  that  she  might  possibly  have  been  Kitty.  He 
imparted  his  doubts  to  the  old  woodman,  and  they  all  set  off, 
ill  at  ease,  towards  the  ravine. 

"  The  fears,  which  more  than  one  of  the  party  had  felt, 
yet  dared  not  express,  were  realized  when,  passing  down  the 
stream,  they  found  Davy's  hat,  and  a  part  of  Kitty's  dress, 
clinging  to  the  bushes ;  but  their  joy  was  without  alloy  when, 
directly  after,  they  heard  Davy's  voice,  in  reply  to  their  strong 
cries,  and,  almost  at  the  same  moment,  came  upon  the  spot 
where  Kitty  was,  slowly,  yet  surely  recovering. 

"  '  Gently,'  said  the  youth,  extending  his  arms  as  a  shield, 
when  Kitty's  friends  pressed  closely  about  her;  'gently — she's 
only  half  alive  yet.' 

"  The  feeble  girl  looked  the  thanks  she  was  yet  unable  to 
speak,  and,  soon  after,  they  all  started  homeward.  Davy  still 


136  THE   ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

bearing  his  precious  charge,  she  seemed  in  no  need  of  the 
assistance  which  Charles  offered ;  and  Kitty,  herself,  declined 
the  service,  as  she  smilingly  pointed  him  to  Caro'. 

"  A  long  illness  followed  Kitty's  accident,  and  weeks  passed 
before  she  was  able  to  leave  her  bed  ;  but  Charles  and  his 
friends  delayed  their  departure  until  all  danger  was  over,  when 
they  returned  to  their  homes,  in  the  lowlands. " 

"  And  Kitty  and  Davy,"  said  Mr.  Brownoker,  as  the  nar 
rator  paused  in  his  story,  "  what  became  of  them  ?  Was  she 
cured  of  her  romantic  passion,  and  did  she  marry  the  devoted 
lad?" 

"  Precisely  what  I  asked  my  host,"  said  Mr.  Flakewhite, 
"  when  he  reached  that  point  of  the  tale  I  have  told  in  my 
own  words.  '  Hush !'  said  he  to  me,  as  his  good  wife  was 
then  entering  the  room  where  we  sat,  '  hush — not  a  syllable 
about  the  story,  which  you  may  end  for  yourself-  There  is 
Kitty,  and  poor  Davy  sits  by  your  side !' " 


CHAPTER   VII. 

"  I  MUST  beg  you,  gentlemen,  to  take  a  long  breath  to-night, 
for  our  route  of  travel  is  bringing  us  towards  wide  and  adven 
turous  fields.  "We  must  suppose  ourselves  to  have  made  a 
world  of  charming  observation,  and  to  have  gathered  thick 
tomes  of  topographical  lore,  in  our  passage  since  our  last  meet 
ing,  from  the  grand  waters  of  the  Terrora,  through  the  wild 
mountain  region  of  northern  Georgia,  and  among  the  frank 
and  hearty,  yet  rude  people,  thinly  scattered  over  the  still 
desolate  interior  of  Alabama  and  Mississippi ;  for  we  are  now 
passing  the  threshold  of  the  great  West." 

"  And  must  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  the  alligators,  and  a 
bright  lookout  for  snags,"  added  Mr.  Brownoker,  taking  an 
observation  of  the  picture  which  the  chairman  was  scruti 
nizing,  as  he  spoke,  "for  here  we  are,  in  the  midst  of  the 
swamps  and  cane-breaks  of  Louisiana,  and  yonder  roll  the 
waters  of  the  mighty  river,  stained  with  the  travel  of  a  thou 
sand  leagues." 

"  Flowing  now,"  said  Mr.  Vermeille,  "  in  our  sight,  as  they 
flowed  three  hundred  years  ago  to  the  worshipping  gaze  of  the 
forest  tribes,  when  the  chivalrous  De  Soto  and  his  hardy 


138  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

companions  reared   above  them  the  towering  cross  in  prophecy 
of  their  future  greatness." 

"  Yermeille  is  right,"  continued  Mr.  Flakewhite,  looking  at 
the  picture  of  the  evening,  as,  in  passing  from  hand  to  hand, 
it  reached  his  own,  "  to  recall  the  name  of  the  gallant  Span 
iard,  as  our  eyes  fall  upon  the  glorious  waters  which  his  daring 
enterprise  first  revealed  to  the  world.  It  is  an  event  of  long, 
long  ago,  to  be  sure,  but  yet  in  my  frequent  passages  of  the  Mis 
sissippi,  it  ever  comes  to  my  thoughts  in  all  its  wild  romance, 
as  distinctly  and  gratefully  as  if  passing  at  the  moment,  and 
I  an  actor  therein.  The  deeds  of  De  Soto  form  the  poetic 
period  in  the  history  of  the  great  valley  of  the  West ;  a  poetry 
of  fact  which  the  most  lawless  fancy  might  seek  in  vain  to 
exceed.  We  talk  much  of  the  enterprise  and  progress  of  the- 
present  day ;  while  we  are  but  timid  snails  compared  with 
the  impetuous  and  indomitable  spirits  of  three  centuries  back ; 
when  Columbus  resolutely  grasped  a  world,  though  opposed 
by  the  ridicule  and  sneers  of  all  Christendom ;  when  Cortes 
and  Pizarro  conquered  kingdoms  and  empires,  and  enriched 
Europe  by  their  chivalry  and  prowess ;  when  great  armies 
flocked  to  the  fearless  standards  of  De  Leon,  De  Narvaez,  and 
De  Soto,  laughing  in  their  enthusiasm  at  all  obstacles  and 
perils.  The  story  of  those  days  and  those  men,  so  much  does 
it  surpass  our  own  boasted  times  and  achievements,  seems  to 
us  but  as  a  tale  which  is  told.  '  It  was,'  says  Mr.  Irving,  in 
his  Conquest  of  Florida,  '  poetry  put  in  action ;  it  was  the 
knight-errantry  of  the  old  world  carried  into  the  depths  of 
the  American  wilderness;  indeed,  the  personal  adventures,  the 
feats  of  individual  prowess,  the  picturesque  descriptions  of 
steel-clad  cavaliers,  with  lance  and  helm  and  prancing  steed, 
glittering  through  the  wildernesses  of  Florida,  Georgia,  and 
Alabama,  and  the  prairies  of  the  far  West,  would  seem  to  us 
mere  fictions  of  romance,  did  they  not  come  to  us  recorded  in 


THE  SOUTH-WEST:  EARLY  DISCOVERERS.  139 

matter  -of  fact  narratives  of  contemporaries,  and  corroborated  by 
minute  and  daily  memoranda  of  eye-witnesses.'  How  the  tale 
of  California,  which  our  people  take  so  much  pride  in  rehears 
ing,  dwindles  by  the  side  of  these  magnificent  exploits,  though 
their  fruits  did  not  mature  so  soon  as  our  own  buds  of  ad 
venture." 

"  Your  last  allusion,"  said  Mr.  Blueblack,  "  throws  a  heavy 
shadow  over  the  glowing  picture  you  have  displayed  to  our 
view ;  a  shadow,  however,  which  only  serves  to  deepen  its 
brilliancy.  I  always  think  in  sadness  of  the  hapless  fate  of 
the  brave  old  Ponce  De  Leon,  finding  only  an  exile's  grave 
where  he  so  confidently  and  resolutely  searched  for  the  foun 
tain  of  youth.  Perhaps  he  found  the  fabled  waters,  though, 
after  all ;  for  is  not  the  new  world  which  he  won,  such  an 
elixir  to  the  decrepitude  of  the  old  nations?  Then  there  is 
the  fearless  Diego  Miruelo,  and  Lucas  Vasquez  de  Allyon,  and 
Pamphilo  de  Narvaez,  and  Alvar  Nunez,  and  after  them  the 
grand  De  Soto,  mad  with  will  and  energy,  breasting  a  hundred 
crushing  storms,  and  conquering  a  thousand  incredible  obsta 
cles,  in  their  resolute  march  through  unknown  wildernesses, 
and  among  treacherous  and  implacable  foes,  only  to  perish 
miserably  and  alone,  one  after  the  other,  in  the  height  and 
glory  of  their  gorgeous  hopes. 

"  What  a  contrast  the  splendid  array  of  De  Soto's  army,  in 
all  its  rich  apparelling,  as  it  set  forth  amidst  the  huzzas  of  the 
multitudes,  makes  with  its  shattered  and  war-grimed  aspect 
some  time  afterwards,  in  its  stealthy  traverse  of  the  Mississippi, 
when  { the  numerous  and  gallant  host,'  again  using  the  words 
of  Irving,  'had  dwindled  down  to  less  than  three  hundred  and 
fifty  men ;  their  armour  once  brilliant,  now  battered  and  rusty ; 
their  rich  silken  garments  now  reduced  to  rags  and  tatters ; 
some  covered  with  skins  like  the  native  savages ;  with  hopes 
once  so  buoyant,  now  forlorn,  and  despair  depicted  in  every 


140  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

countenance.  How  mournful  this  picture,  and  that — the  young 
and  ardent  De  Soto,  passing  rich  in  fortune,  fame,  love,  and 
ambition — the  sorrow-stricken  and  broken-hearted  soldier,  dying 
in  the  sunshine  of  his  manhood,  hopeless  amidst  the  very 
scenes  which  were  to  have  realized  his  golden  dreams  :  his 
poor  remains  stealthily  removed  from  one  unconsecrated  sepul 
chre  to  another,  lest  they  should  be  exposed  to  the  ignominious 
vengeance  of  his  foes ;  and,  at  last,  buried  fathoms  deep,  in  the 
midnight  darkness,  beneath  the  cold  floods,  once  to  his  eye 
so  bright  with  joyous  promise.' " 

"  I  am  glad,  gentlemen,"  said  the  chairman,  at  this  point 
of  our  gossip,  "  to  hear  you  recall  these  interesting  scenes, 
holding  as  they  do  so  high  a  place  in  both  the  stern  reality 
and  the  bright  romance  of  our  country's  story;  but  we  must 
of  necessity  be  brief,  in  this,  as  indeed,  in  all  our  reminiscences ; 
and,  it  is  now  time  that  we  speak  of  our  subject  in  its  present 
aspect.  Asphaltum  must  have  become  intimately  acquainted 
with  the  Mississippi,  in  his  search  for  the  materials  of  his  ad 
mirable  panorama;  and  will  be  obliging  enough,  perhaps,  to 
favour  us  with  an  introduction." 

"  Always  remembering,"  said  Mr.  Brownoker,  laughing, 
"  that  the  merit  of  a  narrative  does  not,  like  that  of  a  pano 
rama,  lie  in  its  length.  '  Three  miles  long,'  may  look  inviting 
on  his  show-bills,  but  would  be  fearful  at  our  round  table!" 

"  If  I  should  relate  to  you,  gentlemen,"  began  Mr.  Asphal 
tum,  "  all  the  details  of  my  explorations  of  the  Mississippi, 
in  my  slow  and  patient  voyage  from  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony 
to  the  levee  at  New  Orleans,  you  would,  long  before  I  finished, 
wish  that  our  friend  De  Soto  had  stayed  quietly  at  home, 
instead  of  opening  the  way  for  my  wanderings ;  or,  that  I  were 
peacefully  sleeping  with  him  beneath  the  deep  waters.  You 
would  grow  wearied  with  the  devious  windings  of  the  capricious 
current,  and  be  crazed  with  the  mere  fancy  of  the  mosquitoes 


THE   MISSISSIPPI.  141 

and  miasmas  against  which.  I  have  had  to  battle.  My  journey, 
which  extended,  winter  and  summer,  through  a  whole  year, 
was  made  in  an  open  boat,  now  floating  lazily  down  the  stream, 
or  merrily  gliding  among  the  swift  rapids  ;  painfully  urged 
against  an  opposing  current,  or  gallantly  towed  by  a  high 
pressure  steamer. 

"  In  the  course  of  the  voyage,  of  three  thousand  miles, 
from  north  to  south — there  is  no  other  river  in  the  world 
which  traverses,  latitudinally,  so  vast  an  area— of  course  I 
experienced  every  change  of  climate,  and  all  possible  variety 
of  vegetation,  from  the  airs  and  products  of  the  frozen,  to  those 
of  the  torrid  zone ;  and,  of  course,  also,  I  filled  my  portfolio 
with  every  sort  of  landscape,  from  hills,  woods,  and  waterfalls, 
to  deep  swamps  and  boundless  prairies ;  and  met  with  adven 
ture  and  fare  as  contrasted  as  the  habits  and  characters  of  the 
rough  and  ready  frontier  squatters  and  hunters  of  the  one 
part,  and  the  luxurious  and  lazy  sugar-cane  growers  of  the 
other  part. 

"  The  source  of  the  Mississippi  is  in  a  network  of  innu 
merably  oozy  streams,  looking  something  like  the  two  hundred 
miles  of  alluvium  which  is  watered  by  its  countless  mouths. 
By  one  or  other  of  these  streams  we  may  reach  waters  which 
will  carry  us  to  the  Great  Lakes,  or,  if  we  please,  far  off  to 
Hudson's  Bay. 

"  Above  the  mouth  of  the  Missouri,  the  turbid  river  is 
comparatively  clear  and  limpid,  and  its  course  is  through  an 
extremely  varied  and  beautiful  country,  full  of  picturesque 
highlands  and  fertile  valleys,  skirted  by  a  shore  delightfully 
broken  with  forest  glades  and  rocky  bluffs.  Below  the  Falls 
of  St.  Anthony,  the  navigation  is  but  little  obstructed  except 
by  shoals  and  sandbars.  The  Missouri  past,  the  river  deepens 
and  widens;  large  islands  divide  the  current  and  spread  the 
waters  over  a  breadth  of  miles.  At  Point  Coupee  it  takes 


142  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

a   more   commanding   and  majestic   aspect,    which    it    thencefor 
ward  preserves  and  heightens. 

"  Passing  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio,  in  our  descent,  we  see  the 
more  southern  characteristics  of  the  landscape.  The  hill  shores, 
excepting  in  an  occasional  bluff,  disappear,  and  the  wide  marshes 
and  the  rich  alluvial  plains  present  themselves.  Here  rises  the 
gaunt  form  of  the  cypress,  lord  of  the  lagunes,  and  the  long 
festoons  of  the  Spanish  moss  warn  the  traveller  to  show  proper 
respect  to  the  night  air. 

"  East  of  the  river,  and  near  the  margin,  lie  long  strips  of 
rich  land,  timbered  with  various  species  of  oak,  hickory,  sweet 
gum,  sassafras,  poplar,  cotton-wood,  willow,  maple,  sugar-cane, 
palmetto,  and  other  trees,  and  shrubbery.  The  shore  is  broken 
with  bayous,  giving  the  appearance,  when  seen  from  an  elevation, 
of  a  long,  irregular  chain  of  lakelets.  These  marshes,  and  the 
rich  tracts  which  lie  behind  them,  are  succeeded  by  ranges  of 
higher  and  more  diversified  ground,  where  the  vegetation  of 
the  pine  family  flourishes. 

"  The  low  and  marshy  character  of  the  country  continues, 
with  occasional  variations,  onward  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico ;  be 
coming  often  an  inextricable  maze  of  earth  and  water ;  a  per 
fect  Babel  of  wild  and  rank  jungle  and  morass,  and  a  confused 
interlocking  of  lagune  and  bayou. 

"  These  swamps  resemble  each  other  so  much  that  strangers 
sometimes  lose  themselves  in  their  labyrinthine  passages,  and 
waste  days  in  vain  search  for  an  exit.  Sir  Charles  Lyell 
relates  an  adventure  of  a  German  emigrant  in  the  Devil's 
Swamp,  seen  from  the  heights  south  of  Fort  Hudson.  '  One 
day,  after  felling  some  lofty  cypresses,  he  made  a  false  turn 
in  his  canoe,  and,  by  mistake,  entered  a  neighbouring  bayou. 
Every  feature  was  so  exactly  like  the  scene  where  he  had 
been  toiling  for  weeks  that  he  could  not  question  the  identity 
of  the  spot.  He  saw  all  the  same  bends,  both  in  the  larger 


THE   MISSISSIPPI.  143 

and  smaller  channels ;  he  made  out  distinctly  the  same  trees 
— among  others,  the  very  individual  cypresses  which  he  had 
cut  down.  There  they  stood,  erect  and  entire,  without  retain 
ing  one  mark  of  his  axe.  He  concluded  that  some  evil  spirit 
had,  in  a  single  night,  undone  all  the  labours  of  many  weeks ; 
and,  seized  with  superstitious  terror,  he  fled  from  the  enchanted 
wood,  never  to  return.' 

"  The  same  author  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  this  anec 
dote,  tells  us  of  a  visit  he  made  to  Lake  Solitude,  one  of  the 
crescent-shaped  bayous  formed  by  old  'deserted  bends  of  the 
river.  There  is,  he  says,  in  this  lake  a  floating  island,  well 
wooded,  on  which  a  friend  of  his  once  landed  from  a  canoe, 
when,  to  his  surprise,  it  began  to  sink  with  his  weight.  In 
great  alarm  he  climbed  a  cypress-tree,  which  also  began  imme 
diately  to  go  down  with  him  as  fast  as  he  ascended.  He 
mounted  higher  and  higher  into  its  boughs,  until  at  length 
it  ceased  to  subside ;  and,  looking  round,  he  saw,  in.  every 
direction,  for  a  distance  of  fifty  yards,  the  whole  woods  in 
motion.  Sir  Charles,  wishing  to  know  what  foundation  there 
could  be  for  so  marvellous  a  tale,  found  that,  daring  floods, 
large  floating  logs  had  entered  the  lake  by  the  channel  which 
at  such  times  connects  it  with  the  main  river ;  that  these  logs 
had  formed  a  raft  which  had  become  covered  with  soil,  sup 
porting  shrubs  and  trees.  At  first,  this  green  island  was 
blown  from  one  part  of  the  lake  to  another  by  the  winds, 
but  a  cypress  springing  from  the  soil  had  sent  down  strong 
roots,  many  yards  in  length,  so  as  to  cast  anchor  in  the  muddy 
bottom  and  thus  enable  the  poor  island  to  settle  down  in  peace 
and  quietness. 

"  In  some  portions  of  this  low  country,  especially  near  Atta- 
kapas,  there  are  wide  tracts  of  floating  lands,  called  '  quaking 
prairies.'  Cattle  are  pastured  here,  and  you  might  imagine 
yourself  on  good  terra  firma,  unless  you  should  happen  to 


144  THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

dig  down  for  a  couple  of  feet,  when  you  would  find  sea-fish 
quietly  disporting  in  the  subterranean  waters. 

"  The  two  shores  along  the  lower  part  of  the  river  are 
of  very  similar  character,  excepting  that  the  western  is  more 
broken  with  the  debouchure  of  large  streams,  and  less  enliv 
ened  by  human  habitations.  Beyond  the  marshy  borders  stretch 
alternate  plains  of  grass  and  woodland — now  a  forest,  and  anon 
a  boundless  prairie — until  at  last  the  mountains  are  again  seen. 

"  Immense  injury  is  often  done  to  the  plantations  on  the 
Mississippi,  through  the  breaks  which  occur  in  the  embank 
ments.  Valuable  fields  are  flooded,  and  not  unfrequently 
entirely  destroyed.  The  water  rushes  through  such  breaches 
with  great  force,  oftentimes  sucking  in  heavy  boats,  and  carry 
ing  them  miles  away  into  dense,  swampy  jungles,  from  which 
they  do  not  always  succeed  in  extricating  themselves. 

"  There  is  not  that  same  danger  in  the  navigation  of  the 
Mississippi,  as  in  narrower  southern  rivers,  of  coming  in  collision 
with  -the  branches  of  overhanging  trees,  when  floods  swell  the 
current  and  lift  the  boat  high  above  the  usual  level.  It  is 
a  startling  sight  to  see  the  huge  crafts  of  these  waters,  while 
sweeping  down  the  rushing  torrent,  suddenly,  in  fogs  or  dark 
ness,  come  in  crashing  contact  with  a  forest  of  sturdy  tree-tops. 

"  The  wrecks  of  old  boats  and  barges,  left  high  and  dry 
by  receding  floods,  are  common  and  picturesque  habitations  all 
along  the  Mississippi.  In  my  rambles,  I  have  often  rejoiced 
at  the  shelter  and  hospitality  I  have  found  even  in  such 
homely  quarters.  Such  occasions  have  served  me  also  to  im 
prove  my  acquaintance  with  that  peculiar  class  of  the  denizens 
of  the  great  river,  the  renowned  flatboatmen. 

"  Passing  by  the  attractions  of  the  gay  metropolis  of  this 
part  of  our  country,  I  will  set  you  ashore  some  few  miles 
below  the  city,  on  the  memorable  battle-ground  of  1815." 

"With  so  vast   a  theme,"  said   Mr.  Deepredde,   "we  could 


WESTERN  CHARACTER.  145 

not  have  refused  you  treble  the  time  you  have  occupied.  "We 
often,  in  jest,  speak  of  our  home  as  a  '  great  country ;'  but 
when  we  speculate  upon  the  future  of  this  immense  valley  and 
its  tributary  regions,  the  joke  becomes  most  serious  earnest. 
The  Mississippi  is,  I  believe,  the  largest  and  longest  stream 
in  the  world,  whose  whole  course  lies  within  one  sovereignty. 
With  its  vassals,  it  drains  a  country  of  almost  a  million  and 
a  half  of  square  miles,  which,  when  peopled  even  less  densely 
than  the  New  England  States,  will  hold  a  population  of  a 
hundred  million  of  souls." 

"  And  a  rare  population  it  will  be,"  said  Mr.  Megilp,  "  if 
it  preserves  the  honest,  earnest,  and  dauntless  traits  of  the 
parent  stock.  I  do  not  refer  to  the  national  weakness  for 
long  rifles,  quarter  races,  cards,  whiskey,  bowie-knives,  and  re 
volvers  :  these  fancies  are  the  mere  froth  of  the  strong,  pure 
spirit  beneath,  and  in  due  time  will  be  no  more  seen.  The 
moral  exterior  of  the  great  West  is  at  present  rugged  and 
tough  as  its  own  bisons,  but  the  soul  within  is  large  and 
rich  as  its  great  prairies.  We  laugh  at  the  extravagance  of 
expression  in  the  people  of  the  West ;  but  there  is  a  deep 
moral  significance  in  their  lawless  hyperbole.  It  is,  in  its 
roughness,  as  indicative  of  strong  action,  as  the  dainty  and 
perfumed  metaphor  of  the  Orient  is  expressive  of  deep  feeling 
and  fancy. 

"  You  may  take  it  for  granted  that  a  man  who  talks  to 
you  about  his  using  the  forks  of  the  road  for  a  boot-jack,  won't 
submit  to  be  kicked  very  patiently  ;  and  he  who  whips  his 
weight  in  wild  cats,  and  dodges  chain  lightning,  will  at  least 
try  to  accomplish  what  he  undertakes.  He  who  has  a  soul 
as  big  as  a  court-house,  may  very  safely  be  trusted;  and  there 
is  genuine  piety  in  the  breast  of  the  old  hunter,  who  economizes 
time  by  begging  every  Sunday  morning  that  Heaven  will  bless 
'its  earthly  table  bounties  and  crittur  kumforts,  throughout  the 
10 


146  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

week !'  I  like  the  veteran,  who,  when  asked  if  he  was  not  afraid 
of  the  rattlesnakes,  numerous  in  this  vicinity,  nonchalantly 
answered,  that  he  generally  '  slept  over  'em ;'  and  the  gallant 
captain,  too,  who,  when  racing  with  an  opposition  boat,  sits  on 
the  safety  valve  to  keep  it  down  with  his  weight;  or,  who, 
when  the  watch  cries  out  'man  overboard!'  asks  if  he  has  paid 
his  passage,  and  being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  sings  '  all 
right — go  ahead !'  I  do  not  think  that  such  a  man,  who, 
though  he  can  sail  his  boat  on  a  wet  blanket,  or  in  the  morn 
ing  dew,  would  hesitate  to  launch  out  into  deep  waters!" 

"  As  Megilp  is  himself  a  Western  man,"  said  Mr.  Blueblack, 
"  we  must  give  him  elbow-room,  even  to  find  a  virtue  in  the 
follies  of  his  brethren.  Perhaps  he  will  commend  us  next  to 
the  universal  predilection  of  his  people  for  betting  and  gam 
bling." 

"  In  a  measure,"  answered  our  young  Lochinvar,  "  though 
the  vice  belongs  more  to  strangers  among  us,  than  to  ourselves. 
If  it  is  an  evil,  as  abstractly  considered  it  of  course  is,  it  is  at 
present  a  necessary  evil,  necessary  by  reason  of  the  fermenta 
tion  stage  of  our  society.  In  its  practical  results  it  is  not 
without  its  advantage,  just  now,  saving  us  as  it  does  from  yet 
greater  misfortune.  Many  a  dispute  is  now  amicably  deter 
mined  by  a  bet,  which  would  otherwise  end  in  blows,  and 
we  are  so  undisguised  in  the  expression  of  our  thoughts,  that 
we  must  dispute;  so  resolute  is  our  nature,  that  we  must  main 
tain  our  position ;  thus,  settled  it  must  be,  in  some  way  or 
other." 

"  Leaving  Megilp's  logic  for  further  consideration,"  said  Mr. 
Brownoker,  "permit  me  to  add  a  word  here,  of  fact,  not  phi 
losophy.  I  have,  in  my  travels  westward,  been  often  amused 
at  the  universal  love  for  betting.  I  have  found  even  children 
of  the  tenderest  years  addicted  to  the  practice.  A  boy  no 
sooner  gets  a  sixpence,  than  he  must  risk  it  upon  some  venture 


WESTERN  CHARACTER.  1-17 

or  other.  If  nothing  else  offers,  he  will  bet  you  that  he  knows 
the  name  of  the  steamboat  approaching  from  below,  or,  that 
he  can  tell  which  way  the  wind  will  blow  to-morrow,  or  per 
chance,  next  week ;  and,  it  is  a  common  practice  for  a  group 
to  sit  quietly  around  a  table,  each  with  a  lump  of  sugar  before 
him,  the  possession  of  the  stake  to  be  given  to  him  on  whose 
lump  a  fly  may  first  happen  to  alight ! 

"  A"  friend  of  mine,  once  showed  me  a  graphic  sketch  of 
an  old  trapper  instructing  his  child  in  the  use  of  cards.  The 
precious  pair  were  seated  on  a  bank  in  the  vicinity  of  a  church, 
the  hour,  evidently,  Sunday  morning ;  and  the  name  of  his 
picture  was — {  A  Western  Sabbath  School !'  " 

"  All  these  anecdotes,"  said  Mr.  Deepredde,  "  are  charac 
teristic  only  of  a  portion,  and  that  the  humblest,  of  the  "Western 
people.  The  better  classes  are  as  free  from  such  provincial 
isms,  as  the  most  generous  education  and  the  most  refined  as 
sociations  can  make  them.  More  especially,  the  inhabitants  of 
the  South-west ;  the  region  to  which  our  thoughts  to-night  must 
be  chiefly  directed." 

"  Suppose,"  said  Mr.  Blueblack,  "  some  gentleman  tells  us 
a  story  in  further  illustration  of  our  subject:  some  tale  touch 
ing  upon  plantation  life  and  manners.  Now  I  think  of  it,  I 
have  heard  Vermeille  speak  of  certain  incidents  of  the  sort 
which  I  should  like  much  to  hear  again,  and  more  circum 
stantially." 

Mr.  Vermeille,  upon  this  hint,  and  at  the  entreaties  of  the 
whole  company,  told  the  following  story  of 


148  THE  KOMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 


"  I  can  imagine  nothing  more  grateful,  to  one  who  appre 
ciates  the  quiet  pleasures  of  social  life  in  a  genial  domestic 
circle,  cast,  by  its  isolation  from  the  great  world,  upon  its  own 
willing  and  sufficient  resources,  than  a  leisurely  sojourn  at  the 
home  of  one  of  our  Southern  planters.  Especially  when  your 
host  happens  to  be  a  man  of  large  wealth,  large  soul,  large 
intelligence,  large  family,  large  fields,  and  large  house,  as  are 
many  of  the  class — as  is  he,  at  least,  whom  we  are  about  to 
visit. 

"  If  you  can  sufficiently  withstand  the  enervating  influence 
of  a  Southern  sun  to  make  the  necessary  effort,  run — no,  stroll, 
we  never  run,  here — to  the  crown  of  that  sandy  knoll,  covered 
with  shady  pines,  and  you  shall  overlook  a  pleasant  bit  of 
Southern  landscape.  The  great  savannas  sweeping  far  around 
you,  their  rich  many-hued  carpetings  of  grain,  and  grass,  and 
flowers,  stirring  lightly  in  the  gentle  morning  breeze,  will  long 
win  your  admiring  gaze,  before  it  wanders  yet  further  on, 
towards  the  forests  of  the  sugar-cane,  skirting  the  inextricable 
winding  of  the  great  lazy  river — the  venerable  father  of  waters. 
What  a  winsome  sentiment  of  repose  and  comfort,  ease,  and 
content,  its  broad,  lawless  course,  seemingly  without  beginning 
and  without  end,  brings  to  the  heart;  and,  how  pleasantly  this 
feeling  is  at  once  heightened  and  relieved  by  the  bold  bluffs 
here  and  there  on  the  shore,  where  some  rampant  eastern  range 
of  hills  abruptly  stops,  as  if  suddenly  conscious  of  its  trespass 
upon  strange  and  enchanted  ground  1  Yonder,  the  fringed 
cypress  grows  from  the  moisture  of  the  dark  and  dank  lagunes, 
and,  there,  among  the  orange  groves  and  the  massy  clumps 


MISTLETOE   HALL.  149 

of  the  live-oak,  peep  the  roof  and  the  latticed  piazzas  of  the 
planter's  home,  with  its  innumerable  surrounding  of  smaller 
buildings — the  cabins  of  the  negroes.  So  many  are  their  houses, 
that,  but  for  the  tropical  vegetation  and  the  soft  airs,  you 
might  almost  fancy  yourself  gazing  from  the  top  of  Mount 
Tom,  over  the  village-studded  meadows  of  the  valley  of  the 
Connecticut. 

"  If  distance,  here,  lends  enchantment  to  the  view,  nearness 
you  will  find,  as  you  descend  from  your  height  and  wander 
through  the  riant  plains,  increases  that  enchantment.  The 
myriad  charming  details  of  the  scene  will  fill  your  heart  not 
less  agreeably  than  the  broad  general  view.  The  solo  of  the 
merry  bird  in  yonder  myrtle  tree,  is  as  sweet  as  the  vague 
murmur  of  music  through  the  air ;  and  the  snowy-plumed 
cotton-twig,  the  gallant  cane-stalk,  the  courtly  rice  plant,  the 
broad  leaf  of  the  tobacco,  the  waxen  "boughs  of  the  orange, 
the  myrtle,  the  magnolia,  and  the  thousand  flowers,  and  vines 
redolent  with  seductive  perfumes,  will  each,  in  turn,  of  itself 
satisfy  your  thirst  for  the  beautiful.  It  will  surprise  you  to 
find  so  much  eager  life  beneath  so  listless  an  exterior. 

"  Entering  the  broad  avenues  of  live-oak,  which  so  fre 
quently  make  the  approach  to  Southern  houses,  and  at  last 
resting  your  tired  limbs  on  the  easy  lounges  of  their  piazzas 
and  parlours,  you  will  revel  still  in  the  same  feeling  of  quiet, 
yet  by  no  means  torpid  life. 

"  The  picture  upon  which  we  have  been  looking  from  the 
sand-hills — the  flowery  lawns  which  we  have  traversed,  the 
oak  shades,  the  rambling  mansion,  and  its  cosy  couches — is 
not  a  mere  idle  fancy,  but  an  actual  scene,  none  other  than  the 
plantation  and  homestead  of  Mistletoe  Hall,  the  residence  of 
Colonel  Hayward,  our  host  elect. 

"  You  will  feel,  at  once,  how  very  happy  is  the  poetic 
name  of  the  venerable  seat,  as  your  eye  detects  the  luxuriant 


150  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

clusters  of  that  impudent  squatter,  the  mistletoe,  peeping  every 
where  from  amongst  the  autumn-thinned  leaves  of  the  numer 
ous  oaks.  One  of  these  trees,  you  will  curiously  observe,  is 
distinguished  above  all  its  fellows,  not  only  by  its  massive  size 
and  noble  form,  but  by  the  extraordinary  quantity  of  the 
famous  Christmas  bough,  to  which  its  generous  life  gives  nou 
rishment  ;  and  which,  in  grateful  return,  drapes  it,  when  its 
own  leaves  pass  with  the  passing  season,  in  a  new  and  richer 
garniture  of  green ;  thus  making  the  old  tree  an  oak  for  half 
the  year,  and  a  mistletoe  for  the  rest.  There  is  an  old  custom 
in  the  family  here,  one  in  which  the  Colonel  delights  no  less 
than  the  youngest  of  his  tribe,  of  semi-annually  re-christening 
this  old  fellow — in  the  spring  with  one  baptismal,  and  in  the 
autumn  with  the  other  ;  now  '  the  oak,'  now  '  the  mistletoe.' 
This  pleasant  ceremony  is  always  performed  with  every  proper 
holiday  accompaniment  of  the  mazy  dance  and  other  merry 
making. 

"  Now,  then — for,  despite  the  early  morning  and  the  breeze, 
you  have  walked  far  enough  to  make  rest  welcome — we  will 
enter  the  mansion,  especially  since  that  little  ebony  troop  of 
laughing  urchins  have  already  announced  our  approach,  and 
the  worthy  Colonel  himself  has  come  forth  upon  the  piazza 
to  welcome  us.  Of  course,  we  will  revise  our  toilettes,  and, 
as  the  Colonel  begs  us  to  do,  sit  down,  without  ceremony, 
at  his  hospitable  table.  Ah,  what  an  abundant  repast,  to  be 
sure,  is  spread  upon  the  board;  and  with  what  rational  leisure 
the  good  folks  are  discussing  it !  The  peacock  fans  of  the 
little  black  waiters  make  the  temperature  as  grateful  as  the 
broad  shadow  of  the  rose-covered  porch.  We  are  at  home 
at  once,  and  feel  quite  as  much  at  liberty  to  think  and  act 
as  we  please,  as  if  we  were  in  our  own  house.  So,  while  we 
eat  our  eggs  and  hominy,  we  will  take  a  quiet  survey  of 
our  host  and  our  fellow-guests. 


MISTLETOE   HALL.  151 

"  The  Colonel — where  he  gets  his  title  we  do  not  know ; 
such  things  are  as  plentiful  here  as  '  something  to  drink ' — 
the  Colonel  is  in  all  respects  a  fine  specimen  of  the  Southern 
gentleman.  His  gallant  person — he  is  still  in  the  blossom  of 
strong  manhood — has  been  developed  by  habitual  indulgence 
in  out-of-door  exercise  and  all  manly  sports ;  and  his  acute 
mind  has  been  cultured  and  catholicized  by  liberal  studies, 
and  by  observant  travel  in  all  lands  and  among  all  people ; 
while  his  generous  heart  has  been  warmed  and  expanded,  not 
chilled  and  narrowed,  by  the  possession  of  wealth  and  power. 
His  wide  and  absolute  authority  he  wields,  even  over  the 
humblest  of  his  slaves,  more  as  a  kind  father  than  as  a  des 
potic  lord.  The  native  fire  of  his  character  has  been  tempered, 
not  extinguished,  by  sorrowful  experiences  of  life :  among  these 
griefs  is,  no  doubt,  the  loss  of  his  wife — the  Colonel  is  a 
widower — whom  he  devotedly  loved ;  while  another  of  these 
gentle  softeners  of  the  heart  is  his  boundless  affection  for  his 
daughter,  the  pride  of  his  soul.  And  well,  indeed,  may  he 
be  proud  of  her ;  for  a  more  beautiful  creature,  even  among 
the  queenly  maidens  of  the  South,  it  would  be  rare  to  find 
than  Clara  Hayward. 

"  Deprived  of  a  mother's  care,  even  in  infancy ;  petted  and 
indulged  by  her  fond  father ;  the  sovereign  mistress  of  a  thou 
sand  submissive  hearts ;  flattered,  as  beauty  and  wealth  always 
are,  by  every  voice  they  hear;  Clara  might  have  grown  up 
a  spoiled,  heartless,  vain,  imperious  woman,  without  any  blame 
to  herself.  Whether  these  very  reasonable  results  from  such 
a  dangerous  position  followed,  in  the  present  instance,  we  shall 
see  in  the  development  of  our  story.  Certainly,  nothing  but 
what  is  lovely  and  of  good  report  appears  in  her  gracious 
greeting  to  our  intrusive  selves,  as  we  sit  down  to  breakfast ; 
or  in  her  kindly  manner  towards  any  of  her  numerous  guests ; 
or  towards  the  slaves,  who  seem  so  happy  to  anticipate  and 


152  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

perform  her  will.  She  treats  all,  and  the  characters  are  various, 
with  graceful  and  considerate  attention  and  care. 

"  If  she  has  a  feeling  of  dislike  for  any  one,  she  seeks, 
and  successfully,  to  conquer  it,  as  beneath  the  dignity  of  her 
nature. 

"  Thus,  in  the  impartial  share  of  her  regard  which  she 
bestows  upon  Madam  Bernard,  the  bold,  handsome  French 
woman  by  her  side,  you  cannot  suspect  the  little  quantum 
of  love  and  sympathy  which  she  really  feels  for  her.  Madam 
is,  or  rather  has  been,  her  governess.  She  has  taught  much 
which  Clara  has  well  and  gratefully  leawied ;  and  much,  too, 
which  she  has  wisely  used  as  a  beacon,  instead  of  a  guide,  to 
her  steps. 

"  "With  what  becoming  grace,  and  yet  with  what  womanly 
propriety,  she  listens  to  the  flattering  tattle  of  that  supercilious 
young  patrician,  Lieutenant  Hutton.  She  is  by  no  means  blind 
to  the  real  poverty,  mental  and  moral,  beneath  his  smooth 
coat  of  virtue  and  wisdom ;  and  she  has  wit  enough  to  sound 
this  shallowness  of  his,  were  she  not  too  ''proud  or  too  kind 
to  use  it.  The  Lieutenant  is  one  of  those  lucky  gentlemen 
( known,  because  his  fathers  were,'  and  possessing,  besides, 
with  the  pass-key  of  fortune,  the  entre'e  of  '  society.'  He  has 
used  these  advantages  now,  in  a  long  visit  to  our  host,  avow 
edly  attracted  by  the  graces  of  the  fair  hostess.  His  horoscope 
is  not  promising. 

"Long  association,  and  long  relationship,  as  teacher  and 
pupil,  may  exact  a  certain  degree  of  respect  and  deference 
from  Clara  to  Madam  Bernard  :  •  as  the  social  position  and  not 
unpleasing  manners  of  the  young  Lieutenant  may  naturally 
give  him  a  claim  to  her  cordial  courtesy.  But  none  of  these 
demands  upon  her  consideration  are  made  by  the  last  of  our 
characters,  who  is  neither  a  Colonel  nor  a  Lieutenant;  who  has 
neither  family  nor  fortune  to  commend  him,  and  who  is  not 


MISTLETOE   HALL.  153 

even  a  privileged  dependant,  but  simply  a  poor,  unknown  stu 
dent,  who,  through  the  Colonel,  has  been  prevailed  upon  to 
leave  his  college  halls  in  New  England,  to  earn  means  by  the 
toil  of  a  tutor  to  pursue  and  complete  his  preparation  for  the 
struggle  of  life.  And  yet  Clara  is,  if  possible,  more  regardful 
of  the  tumble  student  than  of  others,  though  not  with  the 
galling  kindness  of  the  patroness,  for  he  is  not  one  to  be 
patronized.  The  Colonel,  who,  though  not  free  from  the  pre 
judice  and  pride  of  caste,  is  a  wise  and  just  man,  sees  and 
acknowledges  the  worth  of  his  modest  guest,  and  meets  him 
on  an  equal  footing  of  gentleman  with  gentleman.  Madam 
Bernard's  respect  for  the  tutor  is  not  extreme ;  and  she  would 
not,  if  she  dared,  hesitate  to  say  so.  As  to  the  Lieutenant, 
he  has  not,  thus  far,  deigned  to  recognize  the  stranger's  exist 
ence,  who,  to  tell  the  truth,  has  himself  wasted  no  reverence 
in  admiration  on  the  Lieutenant. 

"  The  tutor,  himself,  is  perfectly  at  his  ease ;  and,  though 
modest  enough  in  his  demeanour,  has  the  self-assured  bearing 
of  a  man  certain  of  his  position,  and  perfectly  satisfied  of  its 
dignity.  To  the  Colonel's  eye,  this  simple  manner  is  an  evi 
dence  of  a  strong,  manly  character ;  to  Madam  Bernard's,  of 
mixed  servility  and  arrogance ;  to  the  Lieutenant's,  as  far  as 
he  has  observed  it,  of  unbearable  impertinence ;  to  Clara's,  of 
a  gentleman,  with  more  esteem  for  his  own  honourable  self 
than  for  the  adventitious  apparrelling  of  rank  and  fortune. 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  Miss  Clara  is  waiting  to  throw 
her  hand  and  heart  at  the  tutor's  feet,  for  she  is  not  without 
both  pride  and  ambition ;  or,  that  the  Colonel  would  approve 
of  such  Quixotic  generosity,  for  he  has  his  ideas  of  propriety 
in  such  matters,  despite  his  respect  for  the  stranger.  Besides, 
such  a  thing  could  not  be,  since  it  would  kill  the  Lieutenant 
outright,  with  astonishment,  if  a  broken  heart  should  yet  leave 
him  alive.  Moreover,  Clara's  hand,  not  counting  the  suit  of 


154  THE   ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

the  Lieutenant,  is  already  engaged.  Don't  understand  me  to 
say  that  my  heroine  would  give  her  hand,  any  where,  without 
her  heart.  By  no  means!  Her  position  is  simply  this:  Colonel 
Hayward  has  a  friend  in  Virginia,  the  widow  of  an  old  college 
crony,  who  has  an  only  son,  as  the  Colonel  himself  has  an 
only  daughter  ;  and  it  has  ever  been  a  favourite  project  of 
the  heads  of  the  two  families,  to  cement  their  interests  by  a 
union  between  this  son  and  this  daughter ;  to  say  nothing  of 
a  whispered  penchant  between  the  'heads'  themselves,  which, 
it  is  thought,  may  come  to  something,  if  the  first  plan  shall 
prove  successful.  It  will  be  nice  if  both  the  schemes  prosper, 
for  Mrs.  Danville  and  her  son  Mark  possess  large  estates,  con 
tiguous  to  the  Colonel's  domain,  and  the  Colonel  could  keep 
a  much  better  eye  than  he  even  now  does  upon  these  estates, 
were  they  '  all  in  the  family.' 

"You  may  ask  what  Miss  Clara  and  'young  massa  Mark' 
say  to  this  arbitrary  disposition.  The  truth  is,  the  arrange 
ment  has  been  always  seduously  kept  from  their  knowledge, 
but  somehow  they  have  both  got  at  the  secret,  until  it  is,  at 
this  moment,  openly  and  often  spoken  of,  and  that,  too,  as  a 
fixed  fact. 

"  The  young  people,  to  this  day,  know  nothing  of  each 
other,  excepting  by  report ;  and,  though  they  say  nothing — 
Clara  at  least,  and  no  doubt  Master  Mark  as  well — they  are 
inwardly  resolved  to  dislike,  in  the  precise  ratio  in  which 
they  are  expected  to  like,  each  other." 


Here,  Mr.  Yermeille  was  interrupted  in  his  narrative  by 
the  chairman,  who,  looking  regretfully  at  his  watch,  reminded 
our  guests  of  an  engagement,  which  made  it  necessary  to  defer 
the  rest  of  the  tale  until  another  reunion. 

More  than  one  desire  was  expressed  to  cheat  old   Time   of 


MISTLETOE   HALL.  155 

a    few  more    minutes,   but    they  were    all    overruled,   and  the 
historian  himself  said  that  he  should  be  glad  of  a  reprieve. 

In  our  next  chapter  then,  good  reader,  we  shall  see  what 
further  happens  at  Mistletoe  Hall. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

"  WHILE  unfolding  my  panorama  of  the  Mississippi  at  our 
last  reunion,"  said  Mr.  Asphaltum,  "I  oddly  enough  forgot  to 
speak  of  that  remarkable  feature  in  the  scenery  of  the  river, 
the  renowned  Tower  Eock,  or  Grand  Tower,  as  it  is  otherwise 
called.  To  neglect  all  reference  to  this  interesting  object,  would 
be  unpardonable  in  any  circumstances,  and  doubly  so,  when, 
as  I  find  that  it  does,  it  makes  the  theme  of  one  of  our  pic 
tures. 

"  Though  I  know  that  you  are  impatient  to  hear  the  sequel 
of  Mr.  Vermeille's  nouvellette,  I  must  beg  a  few  minutes  to 
atone  for  my  sins  of  omission. 

"  The  Grand  Tower  is  a  singular,  rocky  bluff  of  about  fifty 
feet  elevation.  It  stands  near  the  village  of  Cape  Girardeau, 
and  is  a  short  distance,  say  a  hundred  miles — a  step  only,  you 
know,  on  the  great  river — below  the  mouth  of  the  Missouri. 
The  hills  on  both  sides  of  the  stream  seem  to  converge  in  this 
vicinage ;  and  from  the  appearance  of  other  huge  mural  frag 
ments,  it  is  supposed  that  a  cataract  once  existed  here.  In 
form  the  Great  Kock  is  nearly  circular,  bearing  a  few  stunted 
cedars  upon  its  crown.  Of  course,  a  change  in  the  point  of 


158  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

observation  varies  the  aspect  of  the  scene  greatly;  and  most 
visitors  will  view  it  very  differently  from  our  artist.  Perched 
upon  its  lofty  heights,  I  have  often  gazed  in  delight  upon  the 
extraordinary  picture  before  my  wondering  eyes.  The  mazy 
windings  of  the  giant  floods,  sometimes  in  their  magnificent 
detours,  traversing  miles  upon  miles  without  perceptible  ad 
vance,  the  huge  steamers  sweeping  on  in  their  rapid  and  noisy 
flight,  the  lazy  progress  of  the  floating  rafts  and  the  uncouth 
flat-boats ;  and,  reaching  far  away  in  the  interminable  distance, 
the  rank  forests  and  the  silent  prairies." 

After  this  mention  of  Tower  Eock  and  sundry  other  rem 
iniscences  which  the  subject  called  up,  but  which  we  shall  not 
pause  to  record,  our  guests  prepared  themselves  to  hear  the 
conclusion  of  the  tale  of 


"  Many  weeks  have  passed  since  our  introduction  to  Colonel 
Hayward's  family,"  said  Mr.  Yermeille,  resuming  his  narrative, 
"weeks  not  barren  of  incident,  claiming  our  attention.  One 
of  these  items  is  the  non-appearance  of  Mr.  Mark  Danville, 
much  to  the  surprise  of  everybody,  and  to  the  disappointment, 
at  least,  of  one.  Not  Clara,  for  she,  we  shall  find,  has  grown 
every  day  less  and  less  interested  in  the  doings  of  the  expected 
visitor ;  not  the  Lieutenant,  for  he  can  live  and  be  happy 
without  him ;  not  Madam  Bernard,  for  she  has  nothing  either 
to  hope  or  fear  in  his  coming ;  not  the  tutor,  since  Mr.  Dan 
ville's  absence  rather  furthers  his  views  than  otherwise ;  but 
the  Colonel — the  worthy  Colonel,  is  grievously  vexed  at  the 
little  respect  which  Mr.  Mark  shows  toward  himself  and  his 
daughter.  He  begins  to  fear  that  his  long-cherished  plans  will 


MISTLETOE   HALL.  159 

after  all  end  in  nothing.  He  is  greatly  disappointed,  and  sorely 
chagrined.  He  begins  to  dislike  the  ungracious  Mark,  and  he 
thinks,  too,  with  a  sigh  of  that  proposed  tie  between  himself 
and  Madam  Danville,  which  must  fail  with  the  failure  of  his 
other  hope.  Besides  these  thoughts,  there  are  other,  very 
natural,  though  less  worthy  ideas,  annoying  the  Colonel's  brain. 
He  is  thinking  of  heavy  pecuniary  losses  which  he  has  had 
to  struggle  against  for  some  time  past,  and  particularly,  within 
the  last  few  weeks ;  the  repeated  failure  of  crops  for  several 
years,  and  more  lately,  sickness  and  death  among  his  servants, 
and  injury  to  his  estate  by  rains  and  freshets ;  an  accumulation 
of  losses  which  are  beginning  seriously  to  embarrass  him,  and 
which  make  him  regret  the  withdrawal  of  the  relief  which 
Clara's  marriage  with  Mark,  no  less  than  his  own  with  Mrs. 
Danville,  would  have  brought  him. 

"  Neither  the  Lieutenant  nor  Madam  Bernard  have  much 
sympathy  for  the  Colonel's  sorrows,  despite  their  show  of 
interest.  Indeed,  we  cannot  expect  that  Hutton,  being  himself 
an  aspirant  for  Clara's  hand,  should  be  over  and  above  eager 
to  meet  so  formidable  a  rival  as  Mr.  Mark. 

"  The  tutor  has  gradually  grown  to  be  a  man  of  weight 
and  influence  in  the  daily,  social  drama,  having  won  for  him 
self  much  consideration,  of  a  differing  sort,  from  all  the  mem 
bers  of  the  household. 

"The  regard  with  which  Clara  treats  him  seems  to  be  that 
which  he  the  most  highly  prizes.  However  that  may  be,  it  is, 
clearly  enough,  more  than  reciprocated.  In  his  hours  of  leisure 
he  is  ever  by  her  side,  as  they  sit  together  in  the  shade 
of  the  perfumed  vines,  sipping  the  sparkling  current  of  some 
'  antique  rhyme ;'  or,  as  they  stroll  in  light  or  '  idyl-thoughted ' 
converse  through  the  oak  and  orange  groves,  in  the  merry 
morning  or  the  dreamy  eventide.  Even  when  occupied  with 
his  pupils,  Clara  is  still  often  near  him,  finding  charms  in 


160  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN"  LANDSCAPE. 

Virgil  which  Madam  Bernard  never  showed  her  in  the  pages 
of  Tasso  or  Racine.  Indeed,  she  seemed  to  be  herself  his 
chief,  certainly  his  favourite,  pupil.  '  How  pleasant,'  his  thought 
appears  to  say  at  such  moments,  { the  office  of  the  tutor,  when 
the  student  comes  with  intelligence  and  sympathy  to  the  task;' 
'  and  how  delightful,'  says  she,  '  the  labour  of  the  pupil,  when 
the  teacher  bears  her  up  on  the  soaring  wings  of  his  own 
enthusiasm.'  It  is  not  strange  that  our  scholar  should  thus 
yield  to  the  fascinations  which  he  finds  in  the  strong  and 
beautiful  character  of  his  fair  hostess,  or  that  she  should  be 
attracted  by  a  nature  so  much  deeper  and  richer  than  she  has 
been  accustomed  to  meet,  and  so  sympathetic  with  her  own. 
Their  intercourse,  in  its  simple  unreserve,  seems  to  be  more 
that  of  brother  and  sister  than  of  lovers.  There  can  be  no 
confessed  passion  in  their  young  hearts,  or  dark  thoughts  of 
the  future  would  sometimes  overcloud  the  unbroken  sunshine 
of  the  present  hour.  Their  heedless  steps  would  now  and 
then  halt,  in  doubt  or  fear,  on  the  now  unseen  brink  of  that 
deep  social  gulf  which  lies  between  them,  and  which  neither 
could  overleap  without  a  sacrifice  of  much  pride  and  preju 
dice. 

"  The  Colonel  sees  that  his  child  is  happy  in  the  society 
of  his  young  friend,  and  he  is  content,  never  dreaming  that 
their  mutual  interest  may  pass  the  convenient  bounds  of  friend 
ship  ;  or,  if  he  has  at  moments  such  thoughts,  burying  them 
far  out  of  his  sight  in  the  shadow  of  that  inexorable  gulf 
into  which  we  have  but  just  now  looked.  The  Lieutenant, 
too,  is  not  unobservant  of  the  path  in  which  the  careless  pair 
are  strolling,  and  he  is  not  so  blind  as  the  Colonel  in  regard 
to  its  course :  but  he  sees,  yet  more  distinctly  than  he,  the 
obstructing  precipice ;  and  he,  too,  is,  in  a  measure,  content — 
more  than  content,  indeed — for,  little  understanding  Clara's  high 
nature,  he  inwardly  derides  the  idea  of  a  rival  in  the  poor 


MISTLETOE   HALL.  161 

tutor,  while  lie  thinks  to  turn  his  presumption  and  Clara's 
indulgence  to  the  furtherance  of  his  own  hopes,  widening  by 
their  help  the  misunderstanding  which  already  seems  to  have 
been  formed  between  her  and  the  only  obstacle  he  sees  in  his 
way — Mr.  Mark  Danville. 

"  Still,  the  undisguised  preference  which  Clara  shows  for  the 
tutor's  society  over  his  own,  is  a  bitter  mortification  to  the 
pride  of  the  Lieutenant — a  mortification  which,  every  passing 
day,  is  in  many  little  ways  so  sorely  deepening,  that  there  is 
growing  up  in  his  soul  a  feeling  of  revengeful  hatred  which, 
much  as  it  is  his  cue  to  do,  he  can  scarcely  all  conceal. 

"  This  dislike  is  only  increased  by  the  lamentable  issue  of" 
the  few  manifestations  of  it,  which,  despite  himself,  he  is  con 
strained  to  make.  Every  hour  and  every  incident  teaches  him 
greater  hate  and  higher  respect  for  the  student — teaches  him 
more  and  more  how  much  he  has  under-estimated  the  strength, 
and  how  much  he  may  have  to  fear  in  the  rivalry,  of  his 
despised  foe.  He  finds  himself  surpassed  by  the  modest  tutor, 
not  alone  in  accomplishments  which  he  affects  to  despise,  but 
in  all  those  gentlemanly  graces  in  which  he  deems  himself 
without  a  peer.  He  might  forgive  the  student  for  writing 
songs,  but  it  is  a  mortal  offence  to  sing  them  as  he  does.  He 
would  permit  him  to  walk,  but  not  to  ride  by  Clara's  side, 
with  so  much  careless  ease :  to  admire  the  beauty  of  the  flying 
deer  is  pardonable,  but  to  arrest  that  flight  with  an  aim  more 
certain  than  his  own  is  insufferable!  What  business  has  the 
man  of  lexicons  and  grammars  with  these  arts  of  the  idle 
gentleman  ? 

"  Clara  does  not  fail  to  perceive  the  vexation  of  her  guest 
at  the  ever  new  exhibition  of  gifts,  which  surprise  her  scarcely 
less  than  him;  for  she,  too,  is  still  advancing  in  her  knowl 
edge  of  the  tutor's  varied  accomplishments,  though  with  more 

satisfaction   than   the   Lieutenant.     It   amuses   her  to  watch   the 
11 


162  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

struggle  between  these  opposing  powers:  to  witness  the  imper 
tinent  sneers  of  the  one  withered  by  the  cool  sarcasm  of  the 
other. 

"She  shares  the  student's  playful  malice,  as,  when  Hutton 
rudely  intrudes  upon  their  te'te-a-te'tes,  he  leads  the  conversation 
into  fields  far  beyond  his  pursuit  or  sight. 

"  Such  a  scene  is  now  passing,  and  the  tutor  is  brought 
back  from  his  metaphysical  flight  by  the  entrance  of  one  of 
his  pupils  in  search  of  light  upon  some  dark  problem  in  his 
algebra.  As  the  lad  withdraws,  the  Lieutenant  sneeringly  in 
quires  if  the  tutor  uses  the  birch  in  his  school  discipline. 

"  '  Most  assuredly,  sir,  when  it  happens  to  be  needed.' 

"  '  On  the  little  boys,  I  suppose,'  continues  the  Lieutenant. 

"'Or  the  great  boobies!'  answers  the  tutor,  with  a  quiet 
but  significant  smile. 

" '  You  see,'  says  Clara,  laughing,  '  what  a  sad  martinet  our 
friend  is,  Mr.  Hutton!  How  fortunate  you  ought  to  esteem 
yourself  in  not  being  one  of  his  unhappy  scholars !' 

"  Now  the  Colonel's  family  are  assisting  in  the  gaieties  of 
a  ball  at  the  residence  of  a  neighbouring  planter.  '  Here,' 
thinks  the  Lieutenant,  as  he  approaches  Clara  to  solicit  her 
hand  for  a  waltz,  'here,  at  least,  I  am  secure  from  the  impu 
dence  of  that  infernal  pedagogue!  His  legs  are  too  much 
cramped  beneath  his  desk  to  figure  in  the  dance!'  But,  alas! 
alas  for  the  gallant  soldier's  vain  dreams,  the  inexorable  tutor 
has  already  cast  his  arm  around  the  fair  girl,  and  is  whirling 
her  through  the  hall,  to  the  admiration  and  marvel  of  every 
body  but  the  Lieutenant  himself.  He  turns  on  Jiis  heel  in 
disgust  and  through  the  rest  of  the  evening  '  doesn't  dawnce !' 

"It  is  one  of  the  brightest  of  bright  sunny  mornings,  and 
the  party,  Madam  Bernard  and  the  Lieutenant,  Clara  and  the 
tutor,  are  starting  for  a  ride.  Hutton  has  distributed  the  horses 
among  the  cavaliers,  and  the  tutor  is  about  to  mount,  when 


MISTLETOE   HALL.  163 

Clara  protests  against  his  venturing  upon  the  back  of  the  most 
unmanageable  creature  in  her  father's  stables. 

"  '  How  could  you  think  of  giving  any  one  such  an  animal, 
Mr.  Hutton  ?'  she  asks,  half  angrily. 

"'Oh!'  says  the  Lieutenant,  with  a  sneering  laugh,  'I  sup 
posed  that  Mr.  Lawson  was  bold  and  skilful  enough  to  tame 
a  bison  if  it  so  pleased  him.  But,  of  course  I  will  find  a  gen 
tler  nag  for  him,  if  he  is  afraid !' 

"  '  Not  at  all,'  cries  the  student,  as  he  springs  gracefully 
into  the  saddle.  '  You  have  hit  my  fancy  exactly,  Mr.  Hut- 
ton  ;  I've  noticed  this  fiery  fellow  often,  and  thought  that  I 
should  like  to  try  his  mettle.  I ' 

"  But  yonder  fly  horse  and  rider,  helter-skelter  over  bush 
and  break,  while  the  ladies  look  after  them  pale  with  fear. 
Which  of  the  unyielding  spirits  shall  conquer?  For  a  while 
the  question  is  a  painfully  exciting  one ;  but,  at  last,  it  is  an 
swered,  and  Clara  laughs  at  once  in  derision  of  the  Lieutenant 
and  in  welcome  of  the  tutor,  as  he  returns  with  his  foaming 
but  conquered  steed. 

"  Not  quite  subdued  though,  for  as  he  draws  near  he  makes 
a  sudden  plunge,  frightening  the  Lieutenant's  horse  and  dash 
ing  the  rider  from  his  carelessly  held  seat. 

"  This,  however,  is  his  last  caper ;  and  Mr.  Lawson,  as  he 
leaps  to  the  ground,  with  proffers  of  aid  to  the  unhorsed  gen 
tleman,  makes  a  world  of  apologies  for  his  unpardonable  awk 
wardness,  which  he  assures  him  cannot  possibly  happen  again, 
as  he  has  now  got  the  perverse  animal  entirely  under  his 
control ! 

"  The  party,  remounted,  now  move  on,  while  the  tutor  is 
patting  his  trembling  horse,  and  still  condemning  his  own 
want  of  skill,  which  led  to  the  late  little  misadventure;  while 
the  Lieutenant  is  trying  to  swallow  his  double  mortification 
as  best  he  can ;  and  while  Madam  Bernard,  scarcely  less  than 


164  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

Clara,  is  vainly  striving  to  hide  a  laughing  face  with  a  deco 
rous  veil  of  gravity. 

"  But  let  us  see  how  our  young  hero  gets  along  with  the 
Colonel ;  see  if  his  character  and  his  versatile  accomplishments 
have  made  him  a  personage  of  as  much  importance  and  influ 
ence  with  the  host,  as  with  the  daughter  and  the  guests.  So 
it  certainly  seems  to  be,  judging  from  the  long  and  animated 
dialogues  they  so  frequently  hold  together — from  the  earnest 
conversation  now  going  on  between  them,  as  they  stroll  yonder 
over  the  narrow  dikes  of  the  rice-fields. 

"  The  Colonel  admires  the  gifts  of  the  scholar  and  the 
graces  of  the  gentleman,  and  these  attractions  have  not  failed 
to  draw  him  toward  our  hero,  but  certain  other  merits,  which 
neither  Clara  nor  the  Lieutenant  have  observed,  have  yet  more 
won  his  confidence.  The  Colonel  has  found  in  his  tutor  an 
unlooked-for,  and  most  welcome  sympathy,  in  his  views  and 
habits  of  life,  and  a  strange  knowledge  and  interest,  practical, 
no  less  than  theoretical,  in  all  his  business  occupations.  He 
has  found  him  thoughtful  and  just  in  his  views  of  the  social 
and  political  condition  and  prospects  of  his  cherished  home; 
and  as  judiciously  learned  in  the  whole  subject  of  his  agricul 
tural  operations,  as  though  he  had  spent  his  life  in  such  studies. 
Thus  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  Colonel  has  given  the  tutor 
his  esteem  and  confidence,  even  so  far  as  to  seek  his  sympathy 
and  counsel  in  the  difficulties  in  which,  as  we  have  hinted, 
his  pecuniary  embarrassments  were  involving  him.  It  is  such 
confidences  that  have  elicited  the  dialogue  in  which  they  are 
at  this  moment  engaged.  Let  us  see  what  it  is  all  about. 

"'And  so,'  says  the  student,  thoughtfully,  'you  have  had 
recourse  to  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Hutton,  which  he  has  urged 
upon  your  acceptance  ?' 

" '  With  all  the  generous  warmth  of  a  true  friend.  He 
has  his  faults,  my  dear  sir,  no  doubt.  But  he  is  interested  in 


MISTLETOE   HALL.  165 

my  fortunes,  even  at  the  expense  of  his  own.  I  owe  this 
somewhat,  of  course,  to  his  love  for  my  daughter,  which  you 
cannot  have  failed  to  observe  ;  though,  poor  fellow,  there  is 
but  little  hope  for  him.  Clara  does  not  fancy  him  much.' 

" '  And  he  holds  your  notes,  at  sight,  too,  for  all  these 
heavy  sums?'  persisted  Mr.  Lawson,  as  though  turning  a  tough 
problem  over  in  his  perplexed  thoughts.  'Have  you  no  fear 
of  his  some  day  troubling  you  with  them  ?' 

"  '  Oh,  dear,  no !  not  the  least.  You  wrong  him.  He  is  not 
that  sort  of  man  at  all.  It  is  a  mere  matter  of  form  between 
us — the  notes.  With  prosperous  crops,  I  shall  be  at  ease  again 
in  another  year,  and  if  not — why — it  will  only  increase  my 
obligation,  which  will  be  a  pleasure,  more  than  a  disappoint 
ment  to  him.' 

"  So  the  tutor  seemed  to  think,  but  he  says,  '  Perhaps  there 
is  no  danger;  but  why,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  ask,  have 
you  not  rather  called  upon  your  dearer  friends,  of  whom  I 
have  heard  so  much,  the  Danvilles?' 

"  '  I  thank  you  for  the  spirit  which  prompts  your  question, 
but  I  must  beg  that  you  will  not  again  allude  to  such  a 
thought.  Once,  indeed,  it  might  have  been  different,  but  now, 
they  are  the  last  to  whom  I  would  turn.  They,  who  the  mo 
ment  adversity  comes  upon  me,  desert  me !' 

"  'Desert  you?' 

"  '  Yes :  what  is  it,  but  my  failing  fortunes,  which  keeps 
the  young  Danville  from  hastening  to  fulfil  the  contract  be 
tween  our  families,  or,  at  least,  •  of  making  the  visit  he  promised 
us?' 

"  '  Your  troubles  make  you  unjust,  my  dear  Colonel.  This 
cannot  be — there  may  be  many  reasons.' 

"  '  Not  so !     Lieutenant  Hutton ' 

"  '  The  Lieutenant  again  ! ' 


166  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

"  '  Has  more  than  once  hinted  as  much,  and  he  corresponds 
with  young  Mark,  though  he  has  never  met  him.' 

"  '  Yes,  I  know,'  said  the  tutor,  with  a  smile,  quite  incom 
prehensible  to  the  good  Colonel. 

"  '  How  should  you  know  ?' 

"  '  Pardon  me,  no  matter — and  so  Mr.  Hutton  thinks  that 
Mrs.  Danville  and  her  son  shun  you  on  account  of  your  mis 
fortunes?  Where  have  they  obtained  their  information?' 

"  '  That  I  cannot  imagine,  unless  it  be  through  your  friend, 
their  overseer.  This  seems  to  be  Button's  idea.' 

"  '  I  think  he  is  mistaken.  However,  such  intelligence  tra 
vels  on  the  air  without  visible  carriers.' 

"  '  It  has  reached  their  ears  at  any  rate,  and  the  Lieutenant 
has  half  hinted  to  me,  that  young  Danville  has  said  that  I  am 
seeking  to  pass  a  dowerless  bride  upon  him  as  an  heiress ! 
You  will  not  wonder  now,  why  I  do  not  ask  aid  from  the 
Danvilles.' 

" '  This  is  growing  serious,'  said  Mr.  Lawson,  as  he  knit 
his  brows  and  clenched  his  hands  angrily,  '  and  the  scoundrel 
shall  pay  for  it !' 

"  '  Nay,  nay,  my  friend :  I  do  not  know  why  I  have  told 
you  all  this,  but  I  do  know,  that  I  cannot  suffer  you  to  share 
my  quarrel  with  Danville,  should  you  happen  to  meet.' 

"  '  Danville !  Oh,  you  mistake !  It  is  not  he  of  whom  I 
am  thinking.' 

"  '  My  only  consolation,'  continues  the  Colonel,  not  notic 
ing  the  musing  air  of  his  companion,  '  is  in  the  love  of  my 
daughter,  who  does  not  know,  as  I  trust  she  never  will  know, 
aught  of  these  things,  and  in  the  counsel  and  sympathy  of ' 

"  '  Your  humble  friend.' 

"  '  That  is  much  to  me,'  says  the  Colonel,  warmly  pressing 
the  tutor's  hand,  '  but  I  referred  to  Madam  Bernard.' 


MISTLETOE   HALL.  167 

"  '  Ah,  Madam  Bernard  !  and  does  she  think  of  the  Dan- 
villes  as  the  Lieutenant  does?' 

"  '  On  the  contrary,  she  hopes  that  he  is  wrong.' 

"  '  Ah  !    she  hopes  /' 

"  '  I  do  not  understand  your  incredulous  manner,'  says  the 
Colonel,  with  an  inquiring  look. 

"  '  Pardon  me,  dear  sir,  if  I  allude  to  matters  of  a  delicate 
nature.  Have  I  not  heard  that  you  may,  possibly,  give  your 
hand  to  Mrs.  Danville,  should  your  daughter  wed  her  son?' 

"  '  Such,  indeed,  was  once  my  thought.' 

"  '  And,  never,  while  Miss  Hay  ward  shall  remain  unmarried  ?' 

"  '  Never  !    that  I  have  vowed.' 

" '  And  would  Madam  Bernard  rejoice  to  see  your  hopes 
fulfilled  ?  Would  there  be  no  personal  disappointment  ? 
Would ' 

"  '  No  more,  my  dear  friend,  in  this  vein.  If,  as  you  hint, 
Madam  Bernard  has  so  much  honoured  me,  she  will  not  seek 
the  accomplishment  of  her  wishes  by  any  false  means.  If  she 
wo'uld,  she  would  second,  not  contradict,  the  suspicions  of  the 
Lieutenant.' 

"  '  Well,  well,  my  dear  Colonel.  I  have  nothing  ungallant 
to  say  of  Madam,  whom,  indeed,  I  know  only  as  a  very 
agreeable  woman ;  but  I  warn  you  against  Lieutenant  Hutton. 
I  cannot  think  him  so  much  your  friend  as  he  would  seem  1' 

"  '  You  are  prejudiced — unjustly  prejudiced.' 

" '  So,  indeed,  I  may  be,  so  I  hope  I  am ;'  says  the  tutor, 
suddenly  remembering  that  any  censure  of  Hutton,  from  his 
lips,  may  be  placed  to  wrong  motives ;  '  so  I  hope  I  am ;'  and 
here,  where  the  road  forks,  he  bids  adieu  to  the  Colonel,  say 
ing  to  himself  as  he  walks  away : — 

"  '  Well,  well !  this  is  a  pretty  mess  I  am  brewing ;  but  I 
must  even  let  it  ferment,  that  I  may  see  what  spirits,  good 
and  bad,  come  from  it!  But  of  a  certainty  this  Lieutenant  is 


168  THE   ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

a  precious  villain  ;  and  I  would  not  swear  that  Madam  is 
immaculate.  Neither  of  them  will,  I  fear,  come  out  of  the 
trial  unscathed.  But  Clara !  she,  at  least,  is  all  truth  and 
goodness !  Even  should  she  not  love  the  poor  tutor  enough 
to  sacrifice  for  him  all  the  pride  and  vanity  she  would  sur 
render  with  her  hand,  yet  will  I,  at  least,  save  her  from  that 
scoundrel  Hutton !  He  shall  be  unmasked,  before  I  leave 
him!' 

"  Thus  -  musing,  he  wanders  on  towards  the  house  of  Mr. 
Granger,  the  overseer  of  the  Danville  estates.  He  does  not 
proceed  far,  before  his  ear  catches  the  sound  of  familiar  voices, 
coming,  as  it  seems  to  him,  from  the  recesses  of  a  jasmine 
arbour  near  by.  Thinking  himself  at  liberty,  under  the  cir 
cumstances,  to  play  even  the  doubtful  part  of  spy,  he  cautiously 
approaches  the  bower,  and  quietly  putting  aside  the  branches, 
is  not  surprised  to  see  the  Lieutenant  and  Clara's  favourite 
maid,  Pricilla,  or  'Cilia,  as  she  is  generally  called.  He  is 
curious  to  learn  the  purport  of  this  conference,  and  well 
screened  as  he  is  by  the  thick  leafage,  no  less  than  by  the 
growing  dusk  of  evening,  he  ventures  to  pause  a  moment 
and  listen.  The  Lieutenant  is  speaking  with  impatient  and 
vexed  voice. 

" '  So,  so,  then  !  in  ridding  ourselves  of  this  impudent 
young  sultan,  who  fancies  that  he  has  but  to  come  and  throw 
down  his  imperial  handkerchief  when  he  pleases,  to  set  the 
world  in  a  struggle  as  to  who  shall  have  the  honour  of  pick 
ing  it  up — in  getting  rid,  I  say,  of  Danville,  we  have  but  fallen 
into  another  difficulty!' 

" '  And  a  much  greater  one,  too,  let  me  tell  you,'  says 
'Cilia.  '  Miss  doesn't  care  a  picayune  for  Massa  Danville,  and 
wouldn't  have  had  him  if  he  had  asked  her  ever  so  sweet!' 

"  '  And  you  think  that  she  loves  this  itinerant  pedagogue — 
this  Mr.  Lawson !  bah !  you're  a  fool !' 


MISTLETOE   HALL.  169 

" '  Maybe,  I  am,'  says  the  girl,  with  a  sneering  laugh — 
'  as  I  was  when  I  listened  to  your  fine  talk !' 

"  '  Pooh !  don't  vex  me  !  "What  makes  you  think  so,  you 
little  fool?' 

"  '  Why,  are  they  not  always  together  ?  Do  they  not  ride, 
read,  sing,  walk,  talk  together,  all  day  long,  from  morning  till 
night?' 

"  '  Oh,  that  is  only  to  spite  me !  She  is  too  proud  ever 
to  think  of  marrying  such  a  fellow!' 

"  '  Spite  you,  indeed !  Mighty  little,  to  be  sure,  she  thinks 
of  you !  And  it  is  to  spite  you,  I  suppose,  that  she  is  always 
thinking  of  him,  and  talking  about  him  in  her  sleep.  Too 
proud !  Yes,  she  is  too  proud  not  to  please  herself,  whatever 
you  or  anybody  else  may  say  or  think.  So  proud  is  Miss 
Clara,  that  she  would  marry  the  man  she  loves,  though  all 
the  world  should  laugh  at  her,  and  though  she  had  to  work 
with  her  own  white  hands,  hard  as  any  nigger  on  the  planta 
tion.' 

"'Umph,'  says  the  Lieutenant  to  himself;  'that's  not  much! 
None  of  the  knaves  hurt  themselves  with  labour !  I  should 
like  to  see  them  turned  free  for  a  while  in  the  streets  of  Phila 
delphia  or  Boston,  where,  I  warrant,  they  would  earn  more 
kicks  than  coppers.'  Then,  turning  again  to  the  girl, — 

"  '  Have  you  done  as  I  told  you,  and  been  seen  with  him 
often  ?' 

"  '  Yes,  I  have.' 

"  '  And  does  she  suspect  ?' 

"  '  O,  ho !  that's  it,  aye  ?  That's  why  you  wanted  me  to 
run  after  Master  Lawson  so  much!  I  thought  there  was  some 
mischief  or  other  at  the  bottom  of  the  mystery !'  says  'Cilia, 
laughing  outright  at  the  new  idea  which  possesses  her.  '  So 
you  want  to  make  her  jealous?  Miss  Clara  jealous  of  'Cilia! 
he,  he,  he !' 


170  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

"  '  Stop  your  folly  !'  cries  Hutton,  striking  the  girl  in  his 
fury,  so  that  she  screams  with  pain. 

"  '  You  kill  me,  you  brute ! — kill  me,  when  you  should  love 
me  best !' 

" '  It  is  not  I  who  have  loved  you  too  well  I  Do  you 
understand,  girl?  It  will  be  bad  for  you,  let  me  tell  you, 
if  you  do  not!' 

"As  the  poor  girl's  eyes  gleam  with  resentful  passion  the 
man  tempers  his  anger,  and  tries  to  speak  in  a  gentler  tone : 
to  win  her,  when  something  tells  him  it  will  not  be  quite 
safe  to  command.  This  new  tone  is  more  successful,  for  she 
seems  still  to  love,  while  she  half  despises,  her  unfeeling  be 
trayer.  As  the  tryst  seems  to  be  ending,  when  'Cilia  reluctantly 
promises  to  do  his  bidding,  the  tutor  makes  a  hasty  but  cautious 
retreat,  and  continues  his  walk  towards  the  overseer's. 

"  For  a  while  his  thoughts  are  wholly  and  happily  occupied 
with  the  grateful  proofs  which  'Cilia's  words  have  given  him 
of  Clara's  love,  and  his  fancy  runs  through  a  thousand  gay 
imaginings.  But  a  graver  spirit  seizes  him,  and  he  mutters 
as  he  walks — 

" '  Things  are  indeed  taking  a  serious  aspect !  I  may  be 
able  to  refute  the  calumnies  against  Danville,  but  as  to  the 
poor,  friendless  tutor,  that  is  another  affair.  I  must  look  to 
this  girl !  She  evidently  still  loves  this  scoundrel,  despite  his 
cruel  treatment  of  her ;  but  it  is  as  clear,  too,  that  she  is  not 
wholly  depraved,  and  may  be  used  to  punish,  instead  of  to  aid, 
his  villainy.  What  will  come  next,  I  wonder!  Truly  I  am 
getting  to  be  a  veritable  Asmodeus,  peeping  into  the  hidden 
secrets  of  this  family,  so  quiet  to  all  outward  appearance,  and 
yet  so  turbulent  within !' 

"  His  soliloquy  is  now  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  approach 
ing  steps,  and,  looking  up,  he  meets  the  eye  of  Mr.  Granger, 
the  Danville  overseer,  the  very  man  of  whom  he  is  in  quest. 


MISTLETOE   HALL.  171 

"They  talk  together,  long  and  gravely,  but  in  a  voice  too 
low  for  our  ears,  even  did  it  concern  us  to  know  the  nature 
of  their  communications.  As  they  are  about  to  separate,  the 
tutor  still  detains  his  friend,  to  tell  him  of  the  colloquy  under 
the  jasmine  vines. 

"'Umph!'  says  the  overseer;  'this  is  very  bad!  "We  must 
be  careful,  or  we  shall  get  into  a  snarl  from  which  it  will 
be  rather  difficult  to  extricate  ourselves.  Indeed,  I  am  half 
sorry  that  we  have  ventured  at  all  in  the ' 

"'No  fear,  my  good  friend!'  says  the  tutor  gaily.  'All 
will  end  well  I' 

" '  Yes,  there  is  great  fear !  "What  if  you  should  lose  the 
confidence  of  the  Colonel !  Then  Hutton's  influence  will  be 
without  a  check,  and  others  besides  yourself  may  suffer.' 

" '  That  is  very  true ;  but,  at  the  worst,  I  can  tell  him  all !' 

"  '  Too  late,  perhaps  !' 

" '  Too  soon,  at  present,  anyhow,'  says  the  tutor  hopefully. 

" '  But  be  cautious,'  urges  the  doubting  overseer ;  '  you  have 
wily  and  unscrupulous  foes  to  deal  with.' 

"'What,  'Cilia?' 
" "  '  'Cilia !  pooh !     Hutton  and  the  governess  !' 

" '  You   are  persuaded,   then,  that  Madam  Bernard   is   con 
cerned  in  the  matter?' 

" '  Certainly !  Does  she  not  seek  the  hand  of  the  Colonel, 
and  will  she  not  be  glad  of  any  means  to  break  off,  or  to 
delay  the  affair  with  Mrs.  Danville?' 

" '  True ;  but  not  that  with  the  son,  poor  Mark.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  her  cue  to  dispose  of  Miss  Clara  to  somebody, 
since  it  is  well  known  that  the  Colonel  will  never  marry 
before  his  daughter.' 

"  '  Of  course.  But  that  somebody  is  neither  Danville  nor 
yourself.  The  Lieutenant  has  a  plan,  you  remember;  and  if 
he  serves  Madam,  Madam  must,  in  return,  serve  him.  But  mv 


172  THE  KOMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

greatest  fear  is,  as  I  have  said,  that  the  Colonel's  ear  may  be 
poisoned  against  you.  Do  you  know  that  Hutton  has  already 
more  than  hinted  to  him  that  it  is  by  your  means  that  news 
has  reached  Mrs.  Danville  of  his  pecuniary  difficulties,  and  that 
your  object  is  to  get  Danville  out  of  your  own  way?' 

" '  The  villain !  In  that  case,  I  must  lose  no  time  in  seek 
ing  Colonel  Hayward  and  disabusing  his  mind.' 

"  '  And  of  course,'  says  the  overseer,  laughing  incredulously, 
'  he  will  believe  you !  will  not  suppose  you  can  be  actuated 
by  any  but  the  purest  motives  in  slandering  his  friend,  the 
Lieutenant!  That  he  will  believe  you  at  once,  despite  his 
senses,  as  Miss  Hayward  will  believe  you  when  you  tell  her 
that  'Cilia's  tale  is  false !  How  is  your  story  better  than 
Hutton's  ?' 

"  '  You  look  more  coolly  and  justly  at  the  thing  than  I 
do,'  says  the  student,  '  and,  had  we  not  already  gone  so  far,  I 
too  should  begin  to  wish  myself  well  out  of  it.  But,  as  it  is, 
we  must  watch  and  wait.  Under  any  circumstances,  I  have 
your  promise  of  silence.' 

"  '  I  shall  not  betray  you,'  says  the  overseer,  as  he  bids 
his  companion  good-night.  '  But  you  must  not  blame  me  for 
the  consequences.' 

"  This  conversation,  much  as  it  occupies  his  thoughts  for 
a  while,  is  soon  entirely  forgotten  by  our  hero,  when,  as  time 
passes,  even  his  suspicious  eye  fails  to  detect  any  alteration 
in  the  usual  cordial  manner  towards  himself,  either  of  the 
Colonel  or  his  daughter.  To  be  sure  the  Lieutenant  is,  if 
possible,  in  yet  more  intimate  communion  with  the  family, 
and  our  hero  is  less  fully  and  frequently  honoured  with  the 
Colonel's  personal  confidences,  but  all  this  may  very  well  be 
without  any  design  whatever. 

"  It  is  thus  that  matters  stand,  when  our  student  is  suddenly 
required  to  ask  leave  of  absence  and  withdraw  for  a  while 


MISTLETOE   HALL.  173 

from  the  scene.  He  is  called  away  abruptly  by  intelligence 
of  the  serious  illness  of  his  mother.  In  his  filial  anxiety  every 
thing  else  is  forgotten^  and  waiting  only  for  the  opportunity 
of  a  private  interview  with  Clara,  and  Mr.  Granger  the  overseer, 
he  takes  the  earliest  boat  down  the  river  to  New  Orleans. 

"His  parting  with  the  Colonel  is  so  cordial  as  to  allay  any 
apprehensions  which  his  interview  with  the  overseer  may  have 
raised,  though  he  does  not  quite  understand  the  looks  of  in 
telligence  which  pass  between  his  host  and  Clara  and  the 
Lieutenant,  as  he  makes  his  adieus  with  a  kind  word  for  each 
— to  the  numerous  servants  who  gather  around  him,  and  par 
ticularly  as  he  takes  leave  of  'Cilia,  who  seems  much  more 
affected  than  the  occasion  demands. 

"  His  host  and  the  Lieutenant  accompany  him  to  the  land 
ing  ;  and  as  the  boat  moves  off,  a  heavy  weight  seems  to  move 
from  Hutton's  heart,  and  he  breathes  more  freely,  as  a  smile 
of  satisfaction  crosses  his  lips. 

" '  You  will,  I  doubt  not,'  says  the  Lieutenant,  as  they 
ride  quietly  homewards,  '  soon  see  more  than  one  good  cause 
to  congratulate  yourself  upon  having  got  rid  of  the  school 
master.  You  observed  how  much  the  negroes  seemed  to  like 
him  as  he  bade  them  good-bye,  and  his  familiarity  with  them. 
Indeed,  he  has  always  had  a  good  deal  more  to  say  to  them 
than  he  ought ;  and  then,  you  know  how  freely  he  has  often 
spoken  about  the  evils  of  our  slave  system.' 

"  '  That  is  true.  But  it  has  been  of  such  evils  as  we  shall 
do  well  to  remedy ;  such  evils  as  I  see  and  condemn  myself. 
He  is  sound  enough  in  cardinal  points.' 

"  '  Of  course,  he  would  be  a  fool  not  to  appear  to  be  so ; 
but  now  that  he  is  gone,  I  will  tell  you  of  some  matters  that, 
out  of  kindness  to  him — for  I  rather  like  some  things  about 
the  fellow — I  have  thus  far  hesitated  to  reveal.  I  may  be 
wrong  in  not  speaking  to  you  on  the  subject  before,  but  I 


174  THE  ROMANCE  OP  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

did  not  wish  to  bring  him  into  trouble  unnecessarily,  even  if 
he  is  really  to  blame,  as,  after  all,  he  may  not  be.' 

"  Why,  what  new  phantom  frightens  you,  my  dear  boy  ?' 

" '  No  phantom,  Colonel,  or  a  very  dangerous  one.  It  is 
nothing  less  than  a  suspicion  I  have  long  had,  that  your  re 
spected  tutor's  residence  here  has  been  of  no  good  to  your 
servants.' 

"  '  "Why  ?'  says  the  Colonel,  in  surprise.  '  You  have  not 
found  any  real  grounds  for  your  absurd  fancy  that  he  is  an 
abolitionist  ?' 

"  '  Nothing  more,'  says  the  Lieutenant,  quietly,  '  than  his 
questionable  familiarity  with  the  negroes,  and  certain  anti- 
slavery  tracts  which  'Cilia  tells  me  she  has  seen  in  his  room, 
and  which  I  myself  have  found  in  the  cabins  of  some  of  those 
who  are  able  to  read  them.' 

" { Indeed :  but  this  is  a  very  serious  charge,  and  I  am 
surprised  that  your  mistaken  kindness  should  have  led  you  to 
keep  it  so  long  to  yourself.  But,  you  must  be  wrong.  If 
your  other  idea,  that  he  has  been  -bold  enough  to  aspire  to 
my  daughter's  hand,  be  true,  he  could  not  at  the  same  time 
seek  to  ruin  me !' 

"  '  O,  you  do  not  know  to  what  absurd  lengths  the  fanati 
cism  of  these  people  will  carry  them.' 

" '  And,  Granger !  He  and  the  tutor  are  strangely  inti 
mate  !  Surely,  you  do  not  think  that  he  is  concerned  in  any 
thing  of  the  kind !' 

"  '  I  have  thought  much  of  that,  but  I  do  not  know  what 
to  make  of  it.  But,  perhaps,'  continues  the  Lieutenant,  laugh 
ing,  as  a  new  fancy  comes  up,  '  perhaps  it  is  only  an  ingenious 
plot  of  theirs  to  injure  me.' 

"  '  Injure  you !     How  ?' 

" '  "Why,  by  making  me  seem  the  offender !  You  may 
laugh  at  such  an  idea,  but  now  that  Lawson  no  longer  fears 


MISTLETOE   HALL.  175 

the  rivalry  of  Mr.  Danville,  he  would  not  stop  at  any  means 
to  get  rid  of  me.' 

"  The  Colonel  seems  to  enjoy  this  thought  of  the  Lieu 
tenant's  as  a  capital  joke,  and  the  Lieutenant  himself  finds  it 
droll  enough,  as  they  continue  to  discuss  it,  until  they  again 
reach  the  hall. 

"Little  dreaming  of  the  daring  machinations  against  him, 
upon  which  Hutton  had  ventured  under  the  security  of  his 
absence,  our  hero  is  equally  astonished  and  exasperated,  when 
a  letter  from  Mr.  Granger  informs  him  of  the  new  turn  in 
affairs  that  followed  the  dialogue,  which  I  have  repeated, 
between  the  Colonel  and  the  Lieutenant,  as  they  were  return 
ing  from  the  landing  on  the  day  of  the  tutor's  departure.  The 
overseer's  communication  informs  his  correspondent,  not  only 
of  the  strange  suspicions  against  him,  but,  that  the  testimony 
of  'Cilia,  and  other  servants  of  Madam  Bernard,  and  the  dis 
covery  among  his  baggage  remaining  at  the  hall,  of  inflam 
matory  papers,  has  made  the  doubts  certainties  in  the  belief 
of  everybody.  But  there  is  other  news  in  Mr.  Granger's  letter, 
which  affects  the  reader  even  more  than  the  story  of  the 
infamous  slanders  which  Hutton  has  so  successfully  circulated; 
the  news  of  the  reported  engagement  of  Clara  and  his  rival. 

"  '  In  this  gossip,  at  least,'  says  the  writer,  '  there  is  much 
show  of  truth.  I  fear  that  Hutton  has  not  only  won  the  heart 
of  our  credulous  friend,  but,  that  he  has  him  in  his  power 
through  the  heavy  loans  which  he  has  made  to  him,  and,  that 
he  makes  his  power  felt.  Though  she  may  seem  to  do  so,  I 
cannot  think  that  Miss  Hayward  likes  her  suitor  better  than 
before,  but,  we  do  not  know  what  sacrifice  she  might  be  led 
to  make  for  her  father's  happiness.' 

"  This  startling  intelligence,  coupled  with  his  repeated  dis 
appointments  in  Clara's  neglect  of  her  promise  to  write  to  him, 
fills  him  with  most  painful  alarm,  and  makes  him  doubly 


176  THE  EOMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

impatient  at  the  circumstances  which  have  kept  him  so  long 
away  from  the  Hall.  Happily,  these  circumstances  are  passed, 
and  the  renewed  health  of  his  mother  permits  him  to  return 
without  longer  delay.  Advising  Mr.  Granger  of  his  immediate 
coming,  and,  enjoining  upon  him  to  take  no  measures  in  his 
vindication,  which  may  betray  the  secret  between  themselves, 
our  hero  is  again  on  his  way  to  New  Orleans. 

"On  his  arrival  here,  his  ill-fortune  seems  to  pursue  him 
more  tenaciously  than  ever.  New  letters  from  Mr.  Granger 
inform  him  that  the  Colonel  has  suffered  additional  and  crush 
ing  losses,  in  the  destruction  of  much  of  his  estate  by  the 
ravages  of  a  terrible  crevasse,  which  losses  leave  him  wholly 
at  the  mercy  of  his  chief  creditor,  Hutton ;  and  he  is  advised 
not  to  return  at  present,  lest  the  violent  feeling  against  him 
should  endanger  even  his  life. 

"  This  advice  has,  of  course,  no  weight  with  him ;  on  the 
contrary,  he  does  not  lose  an  instant  in  the  completion  of  his 
journey.  Fortunately,  he  arrives  at  the  Hall  in  safety,  and 
demands  to  be  confronted  with  his  accusers,  and  to  be  heard 
in  his  defence.  Though  his  old  friendly  greeting  is  wanting, 
the  Colonel  yet  receives  him  with  courtesy,  and  assures  him 
that  he  shall  have  every  opportunity  to  clear  himself  of  the 
accusations  against  him.  But  it  is  now  late,  and  the  inquiry 
must  be  postponed  until  the  morning. 

"It  is  a  singular  scene  that  is  now  before  us  in  the  old 
dining-room  of  Mistletoe  Hall.  Such  a  silent,  and  such  a 
varied  group  has  never  before  gathered  within  the  cheerful 
walls.  There  sits  the  Colonel,  with  a  sternness  of  look  quite 
foreign  to  his  nature.  Hutton's  bold  and  confident  air  is  not 
unmixed  with  visible  symptoms  of  uneasiness,  particularly 
when  his  eye  happens  to  meet  the  steady,  composed  gaze  of 
the  tutor,  as  he  stands  yonder,  with  haughty  and  indignant 
bearing,  more  befitting  a  judge  than  a  culprit.  Madam  Ber- 


MISTLETOE   HALL.  177 

nard  moves  about  with  marked  nervousness ;  and  Clara,  with 
'Cilia  by  her  side,  is  eagerly,  though  sadly,  awaiting  the  de 
nouement  of  the  scene.  Air.  Granger,  too,  the  overseer,  is 
also  present,  quietly  expectant. 

"  As  the  Colonel  signifies  to  the  tutor  that  he  is  ready  to 
hear  his  explanation  of  the  grave  charges  he  has  been  grieved 
to  find  so  strongly  preferred  against  hirn,  our  hero  hands  him 
a  package  of  letters,  addressed  to  Mr.  Mark  Danville. 

"  '  You  once  told  me,'  says  he,  '  that  Mr.  Hutton,  though 
a  stranger,  was  in  correspondence  with  our  friend  Mr.  Danville. 
You  were  quite  right.  They  have  corresponded  during  my 
residence  here,  and  you  now  hold  all  the  Lieutenant's  letters! 
A  hasty  glance  will  show  you  that  Mr.  Hutton  saved  both 
myself  and  Mr.  Granger  the  trouble  of  informing  Mrs.  Dan 
ville  of  certain  matters,  the  knowledge  of  which  you  suppose 
to  have  influenced  her  to  the  forgetfulness  of  old  friendship. 
They  will  teach  you,  also,  that  if  there  really  is  any  change 
in  Mrs.  Danville's  or  her  son's  feeling  towards  you  and  your 
family,  they  are  only  such  as  you  might  expect  to  follow  the 
curious  tales  which  Mr.  Hutton's  vivid  fancy  has  told  them.' 

"  Various  changes  pass  over  the  Colonel's  countenance,  as 
he  long  and  silently,  though  eagerly,  peruses  the  epistles.  Be 
wildered  with  the  stories  they  tell  of  the  sinking  fortunes  of 
his  family,  of  his  own  desire  to  be  released  from  his  engage 
ments  to  the  Danvilles,  and  Clara's  openly  expressed  contempt 
for  Mark,  he  looks  up  inquiringly  now  and  then  at  the  Lieu 
tenant,  who  is  ill  at  ease  beneath  his  searching  gaze. 

" '  A  strange  tale  1'  he  says,  at  last,  ending  his  reading, 
'  and  certainly  in  your  hand,  Mr.  Hutton  P 

"  '  They  are  forgeries !'  cries  the  Lieutenant,  '  forgeries  which 
he' — pointing  to  the  tutor — 'has  invented  to  injure  me  and 
screen  himself.' 

"  '  It  is  possible,'  says  the  tutor,  '  that  Mr.  Danville's  replies 
12 


178  THE  ROMANCE  OP  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

to  these  gratuitous  communications,  may  be  found  in  Mr. 
Hutton's  possession — in  his  trunks,  if  he  is  not  afraid  to  have 
them  explored,  lest  at  the  same  time  there  should  be  discovered 
some  remains  of  the  papers  and  tracts  he  has  managed  to  place 
in  my  own !' 

"  Come,  come,  Colonel  I'  says  the  Lieutenant,  with  an  ill- 
affected  air  of  indifference,  '  this  would  be  too  insufferable  if 
it  were  not  too  absurd !  If  there  are  such  papers  in  my  pos 
session,  which  is  possible,  since  Mr.  Lawson  seems  so  well 
informed,  it  is  without  my  knowledge,  and  can  prove  nothing 
except  a  plot  for  my  ruin.' 

"  '  A  plot,  indeed,  for  his  ruin — a  fatal  plot,'  says  the  tutor, 
calmly,  '  but  one  laid  with  his  own  hands,  and  that  of  his 
accomplices,  'Cilia,  and,  I  regret  that  I  must  say  it,  Madam 
Bernard !' 

"  All  eyes  were  now  turned  upon  Madam,  who  indignantly 
denied  the  charge,  but  Mr.  Granger  now  offered  such  conclu 
sive  proofs  against  Hutton  and  herself,  supported  by  the  con 
fessions  of  'Cilia,  that  the  consciousness  of  guilt  was  too  evident 
in  the  looks  of  both,  to  admit  further  doubt. 

"  'Cilia's  story,  which  was  now  retold,  of  the  manner  in 
which,  by  the  Lieutenant's  order,  Madam  Bernard  and  herself 
had  distributed  the  condemning  tracts,  and  had  bribed  the 
slaves  to  accuse  the  tutor,  was  so  circumstantial,  and  so 
thoroughly  corroborated  by  other  confessions,  that  further  ex 
amination  seemed  quite  unnecessary,  and  the  Colonel  at  once 
adjudged  the  Lieutenant  to  be  guilty  of  the  crimes  wrongly 
and  maliciously  imputed  to  the  tutor.  The  justice  of  this 
decision  was  well  sustained  by  the  rash  and  self-accusing  vio 
lence  with  which  the  Lieutenant  turned  upon  the  Colonel 
with  threats  of  vengeance,  in  the  immediate  demand  of  pay 
ment  of  the  heavy  bonds  he  held  against  his  estate. 

"  Colonel    Hay  ward    hesitated    for   a   moment    at    the  fears 


MISTLETOE  HALL.  179 

which  these  angry  threats  called  up  in  his  heart,  when  Mr. 
Granger  informed  the  rude  creditor  that  he  need  be  under 
no  apprehension  on  that  score,  as  he  was  even  then  prepared 
to  satisfy  all  his  demands,  having  been  furnished  with  the 
necessary  means  by  his  employer,  Mr.  Mark  Danville. 

" '  Such  means  and  such  instructions  have  long  been  in  my 
hands,'  Mr.  Granger  adds,  in  explanation,  to  the  wondering 
Colonel,  '  my  own  reports  to  Mrs.  Danvil]e  and  her  son  hav 
ing  led  them  to  fear  that  they  might  at  some  time  be  needed. 
So  you  see,  Colonel  Hayward,  that  your  friends  have  not  for 
gotten  you.' 

"  At  this  new  mortification,  the  infuriated  Lieutenant  has 
abruptly  left  the  Hall,  and  Madam  Bernard,  too,  has  withdrawn 
in  stately  indignation.  The  Colonel  is  heartily  apologizing  to 
the  tutor  for  his  false  suspicions,  and  thanking  him  for  the 
service  he  has  done  him  in  exposing  the  real  character  of  the 
Lieutenant. 

"'And  now,'  cries  he,  joyfully,  'we  may  again  hope  to  see 
our  friend  Mark  !  Aye,  Clara,  my  darling !  We  must  welcome 
him  the  more  heartily,  when  he  does  come,  in  remembrance 
of  the  kind  and  generous  service  he  has  just  offered  us  through 
Mr.  Granger.' 

" '  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  Mr.  Danville,  father,'  says  Clara, 
as  she,  too,  offers  her  hand  in  congratulation  to  the  student ; 
'  but  my  heart ' 

"'Your  heart,  huzzy!     Where  is  that,  pray?' 

" '  Here,  father,  where  it  has  long  been,  in  the  keeping 
of ' 

"  '  My  tutor  ?  Impossible !  You  do  not  mean  to  say  that 
you  love ' 

"  '  Your  tutor,  certainly,  Colonel,'  says  our  hero,  as  he  draws 
Clara  yet  nearer  to  his  side,  '  but,  at  the  same  time,  your — 
can  my  romance  be  forgiven  ? — your  friend,  Mark  Danville !' 


180  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN"   LANDSCAPE. 

" '  Well,  I'm  heartily  glad  that  the  cat  and  I  are  out  of 
the  bag  at  last!  He  speaks  truly,  Colonel,  and  is  none  other 
than  what  he  claims  to  be !'  cries  the  overseer,  in  a  tone  of 
glad  relief.  '  Mark  Danville,  as  sure  as  I  am  William  Gran 
ger  and  this  old  castle  Mistletoe  Hall !' 

"  We  need  not  depict  the  general  wonder  and  delight  at 
this  extraordinary  revelation ;  the  explanations  and  excuses 
which  our  hero  makes  about  the  fancy  which  prompted  him 
to  pay  his  court  to  Clara,  unprejudiced  pro  or  con  by  adven 
titious  circumstances ;  the  pardons  which  are  accorded  to  him ; 
the  suspicions,  '  all  along,'  that  he  was  not  exactly  what  he 
seemed,  which  suddenly  come  to  everybody's  memory ;  or, 
finally,  the  closer  reunion  which  at  a  later  day  takes  place 
between  the  seemingly  estranged  families  of  the  Danvilles  and 
of  Mistletoe  Hall." 


At  the  conclusion  of  Mr.  Yermeille's  history  our  guests 
prepared  to  depart,  but  lingered  yet  awhile  longer  to  hear 
a  highly  moral  sequel,  in  which  Mr.  Brownoker  dealt  most 
poetical  justice  to  the  fugitives,  Madam  Bernard  and  Lieu 
tenant  Hutton,  whom  he  thought  the  narrator  had  suffered  to 
escape  too  easily. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


"IF  you  have  sufficiently  drained  the  Mississippi,  gentle 
men,"  said  Mr.  Deepredde,  putting  a  sudden  stop,  with  the 
authoritative  rap  of  his  official  knuckles,  to  the  irrelevant  talk 
of  our  assembled  guests,  "  we  will  make  our  way,  via  the  Mis 
souri,  yet  further  into  the  heart  of  the  great  West.  Here  we 
have  some  pictures  by  the  admirable  painter-naturalist,  Karl 
Bodmer,  delightfully  suggestive  of  wild  adventure  and  stirring 
sport." 

"  Ah,  ah,  '  The  Elkhorn  Pyramid'* — '  Herds  of  Bisons  on 
the  Upper  Missouri ' " — read  Mr.  Megilp,  scanning  the  graphic 
drawings  which  now  passed  round  the  board.  "  Appetizing  texts, 
indeed !  Flakewhite  may  muse,  and  '  smile,'  if  he  will,  by  the 
grassy  edge  of  the  cage'd  fountain,  or  Yermeille  may  plot  mis 
chief  in  the  shade  of  his  umbrageous  oaks ;  but  give  me  the 
music  of  the  rifle  in  the  untrodden  wilderness,  and  let  me 
gossip  with  the  red-man,  the  bison,  and  the  bear.  What  is 
the  crackle  of  anthracite  to  the  blaze  of  the  burning  prairie, 
or  the  strains  of  a  guitar  compared  with  the  jocund  serenade 

*  Fronting  Chapter  I. 


182  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

of  hungry  wolves !  Here,  far  away  from  the  conventionalities 
and  the  artificial  needs  and  cares  of  life,  is  the  place  for 
genuine  enjoyment.  Here,  where  your  trusty  gun  may  bring 
you  dainty  meats  for  food  and  warm  skins  for  clothing,  be 
yond  which  you  feel  no  other  wants !" 

"  Your  conception  of  the  spirit  and  poetry  of  our  present 
neighbourhood  is  the  true  one,"  said  Mr.  Deepredde ;  "for 
though  the  westward  course  of  empire  is  rapidly  scattering  the 
seeds  of  other  characteristics  than  those  of  forest  life  over  the 
whole  vast  area  of  the  wild  plains  which  border  the  Missouri, 
their  chiefest  features  are  still  those  of  Nature  in  her  wild 
primitive  life.  Looking  then,  as  we  always  should,  for  the 
individualities  of  the  lands  we  visit,  it  is  as  proper  that  we 
be  hunters  and  trappers  west  of  the  Mississippi,  as  that  we 
should  play  the  role  of  courtly  gentlemen  in  Broadway.  The 
travellers  of  the  next  generation  will  find  a  very  different 
spirit  in  this  our  Western  landscape,  so  rapid  is  the  growth 
and  extension  of  the  population  here.  A  few  years  hence, 
and  Mr.  Megilp  will  almost  forget  that  he  ever  chased  the 
buffalo  over  the  plains  which  he  will  then  find  covered  with 
peaceful  firesides  and  smiling  gardens.  Such  is  the  certain 
prediction  of  the  weird  voice  of  the  impetuous  locomotive, 
impatient  to  traverse  the  gorges  of  the  Rocky  Mountains ;  so 
says  the  murmur  of  that  great  city  growing  on  the  margin 
of  the  far-off  Salt  Lake ;  and  such  is  the  significance  of  the 
angry  contentions,  rife  at  this  hour  in  our  National  Legislature, 
for  the  possession  of  the  desert  wilds  of  remote  Nebraska. 

"And  now,  gentlemen,  with  this  perhaps  too  long  exordium, 
we  will  make  a  hasty  survey  of  the  present  physical  aspect 
of  the  boundless  regions  commanded  by  the  interminable  Mis 
souri  and  its  many  great  affluents." 

"  Megilp,"  said  Professor  Scumble,  "  has  travelled  the  coun 
try  all  over,  and  is  just  the  showman  we  want." 


GATES  OF  THE  EOCKY  MOUNTAINS.  183 

"  I  will  soon  make  the  voyage  for  you,"  said  that  gentle 
man,  in  ready  response  to  the  Professor's  demand,  "  though  it 
is  not  a  very  short  one,  being  no  less  than  four  thousand 
miles  from  the  springs  whence  the  great  river  flows  to  its 
confluence  with  the  Mississippi.  Though  there  are,  of  course, 
many  points  of  extraordinary  interest  in  all  this  long  transit, 
yet,  for  hundreds  of  miles,  the  scenery  is  monotonous  and 
stupid  enough.  We  must,  however,  expect  Nature  to  nod  a 
little  in  such  a  jaunt.  Here  the  waters  roll  through  vast 
stretches  of  arid  and  sterile  land,  and  yonder  they  are  bor 
dered,  on  either  shore,  by  the  rich  alluvial  fringe  of  the  prairie 
meadows.  Each  of  these  prevailing  aspects  is  interesting  enough 
while  novel  to  the  eye,  and  the  wearying  excess  of  them  may 
well  be  borne  in  consideration  of  the  beauty  of  the  bold  bluffs, 
and  yet  more  charming  surprises,  with  which  their  monotony 
is  frequently  relieved. 

"  Such  a  surprise  is  the  wonderful  scenery  at  the  famous 
'  Grates  of  the  Eocky  Mountains,'  four  hundred  miles  below  the 
source  of  the  river.  Here,  through  a  passage  of  a  couple  of 
leagues,  the  giant  rocks  rise  perpendicularly  from  the  water's 
edge  to  the  towering  height  of  twelve  hundred  feet.  For  miles, 
the  dark  waters  in  their  narrow  bed  wash  the  base  of  these 
huge  walls,  so  closely  that  not  a  foot-hold  is  anywhere  to  be 
found.  It  is  a  ghostly  gorge  on  the  sunniest  day;  but  when 
its  habitual  gloom  is  deepened  by  the  shadow  of  a  stormy 
sky,  its  sentiment  of  solitude  grows  painfully  impressive.  Let 
a  thunder-peal  reverberate,  as  often  happens,  in  a  thousand 
wailing  voices  through  the  rocky  windings  of  the  glen,  and 
let  the  blackness  of  darkness  be  increased  by  the  vanished 
gleam  of  the  lightning  flash,  and  you  think  you  have  left 
this  fair  world  far  behind  you. 

"  I  was  once,  with  some  friends,  traversing  this  passage  at 
such  a  fearful  moment  as  I  have  described,  when  we  became 


184:  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

aware  that  we  were  pursued  by  a  party  of  Indians.  Noise 
lessly  and  breathlessly  we  urged  on  our  canoes,  pausing  at 
intervals  only  to  ascertain  the  progress  of  our  foes,  hope  and 
despair  alternately  filling  our  hearts  as  we  seemed,  at  one 
moment,  to  be  gaining,  and,  at  another,  losing  ground.  It  was 
only  now  and  then  that  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  savages, 
and  the  sound  of  their  unceasing  and  unearthly  yells  came 
to  our  ears  with  such  uncertainty,  that  it  gave  us  no  clue 
to  their  position.  The  excitement  of  the  struggle  was  intense 
as  their  random  arrows  flew  about  our  ears,  and  as  the  deadly 
effect  of  our  fatal  shots  was  told  to  us  in  the  death-cries 
from  their  own  ranks. 

"We  took  fresh  courage,  as  the  increasing  light  spoke  our 
approach  to  the  terminus  of  the  glen,  and  gave  us  hope,  once 
on  terra  firma,  of  distancing  our  foes.  New  fears,  though, 
"  seized  upon  us,  lest  our  scanty  supply  of  ammunition  should 
be  exhausted  before  we  reached  the  prayed-for  sanctuary. 
Happily  the  dread  vanished,  as  the  arrows  of  the  savages  sen 
sibly  decreased  in  numbers,  and  the  chorus  of  their  infernal 
shrieks  died  away. 

"When  we  at  last  leaped  panting  upon  the  open  shore, 
not  a  sound  of  pursuit  was  to  be  heard,  leaving  us  the  glad 
hope  that  we  had  slain  them  all,  or  so  many  as  to  secure 
us  from  further  danger.  But  not  stopping  to  verify  this  sup 
position,  we  made  all  possible  haste  to  reach  the  camp  which 
we  had  so  gaily  left  &  few  hours  before.  Once  safe  among 
our  companions,  we  mentally  vowed  to  be  wary  henceforth  how 
we-  ventured  within  the  Gates  of  the  Eocky  Mountains ! 

"  But  I  am  forgetting  my  office  of  topographer.  Some 
hundred  miles  or  so  below  these  colossal  Gates — I  wish  Samp 
son  had  been  with  us  at  the  time  of  the  adventure  I  have 
narrated,  that  he  might  have  toppled  them  down  on  the  heads 
of  our  rascally  pursuers — is  yet  another  scene  of  equally  grand 


THE   FAR   WEST.  185 

though  very  different  character — the  '  Great  Falls,'  a  worthy 
peer  of  Niagara  itself.  The  river  at  this  point  descends,  by 
a  succession  of  cascades  and  rapids,  no  less  than  three  hun 
dred  and  fifty-seven  feet  in  sixteen  miles.  The  perpendicular 
falls,  commencing  down  the  stream, .  are  first,  one  of  eighty- 
seven  feet,  and  others,  successively,  of  nineteen,  forty-seven,  and 
twenty-six  feet.  Between  and  below  these  are  continual  rapids, 
from  three  to  eighteen  feet  descent. 

"  Below  the  Great  Falls  there  is  no  serious  obstacle  to  navi 
gation,  excepting  in  the  shallowness  of  the  waters  during 
seasons  of  drought.  At  such  periods  the  steamboats  often  meet 
with  much  difficulty  in  ascending  the  river.  The  current  of 
the  Missouri  is  much  stronger  than  that  of  the  Mississippi,  and 
so  turbid  as  to  have  given  it  its  name,  meaning  '  mud  river.' 

"  Numerous  as  are  the  objects  of  interest  in  the  landscape 
of  this  section  of  our  country,  which  tourists  have*  already  dis 
covered,  there  are  doubtless  yet  hidden  within  the  mountain 
fastnesses,  many  undreamed-of  wonders,  whose  fame  is  still  to 
be  made.  We  must  remember  that  Missouri  is  a  new  State, 
and  its  tributary  country  still  a  wild  and  unexplored  region. 
Its  great  capital  city  of  St.  Louis  is  described  in  the  Gazetteer 
of  Dr.  Beck,  no  longer  ago  than  in  1823,  as  (a  flourishing 
post-town !' 

"  Not  taking  into  account  that  omnipotent  '  manifest  des 
tiny,'  to  which  we  all  so  confidently  look  for  many  grand 
results,  besides  the  settlement  of  our  whole  "Western  territory, 
Missouri  possesses  sources  of  wealth  which  must  make  her 
march  to  power  quick  and  notable.  She  has  a  magnificent 
area  of  productive  soil,  suitable  for  every  species  of  vegetation, 
excepting  that'  of  the  tropics,  and  an  abundance  and  variety 
of  mineral  stores  already  famous  the  world  over. 

"  All  this  for  the  future — for  the  present,  this  grand  terri 
tory  is  a  perfect  paradise  to  the  hunter,  yielding  him  in  abuu- 


186  THE  KOMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

dance  every  species  of  game,  from  partridges  to  panthers, 
from  prairie  hens  to  shaggy  buffaloes." 

"  There  is  one  very  striking  feature  of  this  region,  which 
Megilp  has  very  strangely  omitted  to  mention,"  said  the  Pro 
fessor,  recalling  the  gossip  which  was  straying  towards  other 
subjects,  when  Mr.  Megilp  intimated  the  close  of  his  story.  "  I 
allude  to  the  marvellous  fissures  which  sometimes  so  suddenly 
open  in  the  immense  arid  plains  or  steppes,  that  stretch  down 
by  such  slow  and  imperceptible  descent  from  the  snowy  peaks 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  I  find  a  graphic  description  of  these 
remarkable  scenes,  in  Mr.  '  Kendall's  Santa  Fe  Expedition,' 
which  you  will,  perhaps,  permit  me  to  read.  The  traveller 
is  passing  the  grand  Piano  Estacado,  which  sweeps  from  the 
base  of  the  mountains  to  the  head  waters  of  the  Arkansas  and 
other  rivers.  He  has  already  wended  his  wandering  way 
through  one  of  these  fearful  chasms,  and  is  rejoicing  to  find 
himself  once  more  on  the  open  sun-lit  prairie,  when,  without 
the  slightest  intimation  in  tree  or  shrub  of  a  change  in  the 
monotonous  landscape  before  him,  he  finds  himself  at  the 
mouth  of  a  yawning  gorge,  which  exceeded  in  grandeur  any 
thing  he  had  yet  beheld. 

"  '  One  by  one,'  he  says,  '  we  left  the  double-file  ranks,  and 
lost  in  amazement,  rode  up  to  the  verge  of  the  terrible  abyss. 
In  depth,  it  could  not  be  less  than  eight  hundred  feet,  was 
from  three  to  five  hundred  yards  in  width,  and  at  the  point 
where  we  first  struck  it,  the  sides  were  nearly  perpendicular. 
A  sickly  sensation  was  felt  by  all  as  we  looked  down,  as  it 
were,  into  the  depths  of  the  earth.  In  the  dark  and  narrow 
valley  below,  an  occasional  spot  of  green  relieved  the  eye,  and 
a  small  stream  of  water  now  rising  to  the  view,  then  sinking 
beneath  some  huge  rock,  was  foaming  and  bubbling  along. 
Immense  walls,  columns,  and,  in  some  places,  what  appeared 
to  be  arches,  were  seen  standing,  modelled  by  the  wear  of  the 


THE   FAR  WEST.  187 

water,  undoubtedly,  yet  so  perfect  in  form  that  we  could  with 
difficulty  be  brought  to  believe  that  the  hand  of  man  had 
not  fashioned  them.  The  rains  of  centuries  falling  upon  our 
immense  prairies  had  here  formed  a  reservoir,  and  their  work 
ings  upon  the  different  veins  of  earth  and  stone  had  made 
these  strange  and  fanciful  shapes. 

" '  Before  reaching  the  chasm,  we  had  crossed  numerous 
large  trails  leading  a  little  more  to  the  west  than  we  were 
travelling  ;  and  the  experience  of  the  previous  day  had  led 
us  to  suppose  that  they  all  terminated  at  a  common  crossing 
near  by.  In  this  conjecture  we  were  not  disappointed,  for  a 
trot  of  half  an  hour  brought  us  into  a  large  road,  the  tho 
roughfare,  along  which  millions  of  Indians,  buffaloes,  and 
mustangs  had  evidently  travelled  for  years.  Perilous  as  the 
descent  appeared,  we  well  knew  that  there  was  no  other  near. 
The  leading  mule  was  again  urged  forward,  the  steadier  and 
older  horses  were  next  driven  over  the  sides,  and  the  more 
skittish  and  intractable  brought  up  the  rear.  Once  in  the 
narrow  path  which  led  circuitously  down  the  descent,  there 
was  no  turning  back,  and  our  half  maddened  animals  finally 
reached  the  bottom  in  safety.  Several  large  stones  were 
loosened  from  their  fastenings  by  our  men  during  this  frightful 
descent ;  these  would  leap,  dash,  and  thunder  down  the  pre 
cipitous  sides,  and  strike  against  the  bottom  far  below  us, 
with  a  terrific  and  reverberating  crash. 

"  '  We  found  a  running  stream  on  reaching  the  lower  end 
of  the  chasm,  on  the  opposite  of  which  was  a  romantic  dell, 
covered  with  short  grass  and  a  few  scattered  cotton-woods.  A 
large  party  of  Indians  had  encamped  on  this  very  spot  a  few 
days  previous,  the  wilted  limbs  of  the  trees,  and  other  signs, 
showing  that  they  had  made  it  a  resting  place.  We,  too, 
halted  a  couple  of  hours  to  give  our  horses  an  opportunity  to 
graze  and  rest  themselves.  The  trail,  which  led  up  on  the 


188  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

opposite  side,  was  discovered  only  a  short  distance  above  us, 
to  the  south,  winding  up  the  steep  and  rugged  sides  of  the 
acclivity. 

"  '  As  we  journeyed  along  this  dell,  all  were  again  struck 
with  admiration  at  the  strange  and  fanciful  figures  made  by 
,  the  washing  of  the  waters  during  the  rainy  season.  In  some 
places  perfect  walls,  formed  of  reddish  clay,  were  seen  standing, 
and  were  they  anywhere  else,  it  would  be  impossible  to  be 
lieve  that  other  than  the  hand  of  man  had  formed  them.  The 
veins  of  which  these  walls  were  composed  were  of  even  thick 
ness  ;  very  hard,  and  ran  perpendicularly ;  and,  when  the 
softer  sand  which  had  surrounded  them  was  washed  away,  the 
veins  still  remained  standing  upright,  in  some  places  a  hundred 
feet  high,  and  three  or  four  hundred  in  length.  Columns,  too, 
were  there,  and  such  was  their  appearance  of  architectural 
order,  and  so  much  of  chaste  grandeur  was  there  about  them, 
that  we  were  lost  in  wonder  and  admiration.  Sometimes  the 
breastworks,  as  of  forts,  would  be  plainly  visible;  then,  again, 
the  frowning  turrets  of  some  castle  of  the  olden  time.  Cum 
brous  pillars  of  some  mighty  pile,  such  as  is  dedicated  to 
religion  or  royalty,  were  scattered  about ;  regularity  was 
strangely  mingled  with  disorder  and  ruin,  and  Nature  had 
done  it  all.  Niagara  has  been  considered  one  of  her  wildest 
freaks,  but  Niagara  sinks  into  insignificance  when  compared 
with  the  wild  grandeur  of  this  awful  chasm — this  deep  abys 
mal  solitude,  as  Carlyle  would  call  it.  Imagination  carried 
us  back  to  Thebes,  to  Palmyra,  and  to  ancient  Athens,  and 
we  could  not  help  thinking  that  we  were  now  among  their 
ruins.' 

"  His  passage  out  of  this  place,  Mr.  Kendall  tells  us,  was 
made  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  after  being  completely  shut 
out  from  the  world  during  six  long  hours.  When  he  again 
found  himself  upon  the  level  prairie,  and,  after  proceeding 


HUNTING  THE   BUFFALO.  189 

some  hundred  yards,  looked  back,  not  a  trace  of  the  immense 
chasm  could  he  discover." 

"It  is,"  said  Mr.  Megilp,  "one  of  the  favourite  modes  of 
hunting  the " 

"  Pardon  me  for  interrupting  you  a  moment,"  said  the  chair 
man,  "  but  I  would  remark,  before  the  conversation  turns  from 
the  topography  of  our  subject,  that,  having  already  travelled 
so  far  westward,  it  would  be  very  agreeable  could  we  cross 
the  snow-covered  crests  of  the  great  Eocky  Mountains,  and, 
after  a  peep  at  the  wonders  of  California  and  Oregon,  look 
out  upon  the  wastes  of  the  Pacific.  Despite  the  but  partial 
explorations  yet  made  of  these  wild  territories,  enough  of 
beauty  and  interest  has  already  been  found,  to  lure  thither 
the  hunter  of  the  picturesque,  in  the  teeth  of  all  the  dangers 
and  difficulties  of  the  journey.  I  should  like  to  look  upon  the 
'  stern  and  rock-bound  coast '  of  our  newly -found  Dorado,  and 
watch  the  rising  and  the  setting  of  the  sun  from  the  crests  of 
her  mighty  hills,  clad  in  everlasting  snow.  Think,  gentlemen, 
of  the  Cascade  Mountains  of  Oregon,  with  an  elevation  of  four 
teen  thousand  feet !  There's  a  morning  stroll  for  you !  After 
such  a  feat,  you  might  do  the  Camel's  Hump,  or  Mount  Wash 
ington,  in  a  quiet  evening  walk !  Then,  there  are  the  Grand 
Dalles  or  basaltic  precipices  of  the  Columbia  river,  in  its  pas 
sage  through  these  same  giant  hills;  and  I  know  not  what 
other  marvellous  things;  no  one  knows,  as  yet.  Years  hence, 
long  after  we  shall  have  laid  down  our  worn-out  pencils,  the 
artists  of  America  will  revel  in  the  rich  beauties  of  this  now 
unknown  "Western  world. 

"Now,  Megilp,  if  your  speech  has  not  spoiled  by  keeping," 
continued  the  chairman,  "let  us  hear  what  you  have  to  say 
about  the  buffaloes." 

"It  is  a  common  method  of  hunting  those  animals,  among 
the  prairie  tribes,  I  was  about  observing,  to  drive  the  infuriated 


190  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

herds  over  the  edges  of  those  great  chasms,  of  which  Professor 
Scumble  has  been  talking,  where,  bounding  from  crag  to  crag 
down  to  the  dark  bed  of  the  horrible  abyss,  their  torn  carcasses 
are  heaped  up  in  frightful  hecatombs  of  death. 

"  Another  process  of  securing  the  buffalo,  is  that  known 
as  the  '  Prairie  Surround.'  Mr.  "Webber,  in  his  admirable  book 
about  '  Wild  Scenes  and  Wild  Hunters,'  graphically  describes 
this  mode  of  hunting.  '  The  widely  scattered  line  of  the  sur 
round,'  he  says,  'inclosing  some  valley  containing  a  herd,  is 
rapidly  closed  up  by  the  yelling  warriors  composing  it,  who 
drive  the  frightened  animals  from  its  circumference,  urging 
towards  a  centre,  where,  precipitated  in  the  headlong  crush 
upon  each  other,  the  helpless  mass  sways,  bellowing,  while 
amidst  the  cloud-dusts  of  their  collision,  the  forms  of  the  war 
riors,  who  have  leaped  from  their  horses  upon  the  backs  of 
the  buffaloes,  may  be  dimly  seen  treading  the  horned  tumult 
with  fierce  gestures,  and  wielding  the  long  lance  as  a  rope- 
dancer  does  his  balance  pole,  with  the  slight  difference,  that 
with  nearly  every  step  they  thrust  its  sharp  point  down  through 
joint  and  marrow,  between  the  spine  and  scull  of  some  new 
victim,  whose  shaggy  back  they  have  but  pressed  in  passing 
with  their  moccasined  feet.  Thousands  are  thus  slaughtered 
in  a  few  minutes.  This  scene,  as  weird  and  wild  as  it  is  real, 
tamed,  by  contrast,  all  midnight  phantasmagoria,  beneath  the 
blaze  of  noon-tide." 

"  Megilp  has  no  doubt  slaughtered  many  an  infuriated  bull, 
in  his  day,"  said  Mr.  Brownoker;  "perhaps  managed  an  entire 
'  surround,'  all  alone.  He  is  a  '  mighty  hunter'  before — him 
self!  What  say  you,  gentlemen,  shall  we  have 


MEGILP'S  EXPERIENCE  IN  BUFFALO-HUNTING.  191 


fejtrwta  m 


"  To  tell  the  truth,"  answered  Nimrod,  "  I  never  accom 
plished  much  in  the  buffalo  line,  having  attempted  it  only 
once,  and  then  with  but  indifferent  success.  Indeed,  I  believe 
that  I  rather  lost,  than  gained,  by  the  operation.  We  had 
pitched  our  tent  near  the  edge  of  a  great  prairie,  on  the  eve 
of  an  eventful  day,  and  our  hearts  leaped  at  the  approaching 
realization  of  that  most  romantic  hope  of  forest-life,  a  buffalo- 
hunt.  As  we  sat,  to  a  late  hour,  talking,  in  the  quiet  moon 
light,  of  the  valiant  deeds  the  morrow  was  to  witness,  a  half 
incredulous,  half  sneering  smile  would  come  occasionally  to 
the  grim  lips  of  the  swarthy  rangers,  whom  we  had  secured  as 
guides  and  tutors.  "With  the  thousand  cautions  and  hints 
which  they  gave  us  touching  the  process  of  the  expected 
chase,  they  maliciously  mixed  up  many  tales  of  bloody  mis 
adventure,  which  might  have  intimidated  less  resolute  souls 
than  ours. 

"  When  we  sallied  eagerly  forth,  under  the  glittering  light 
of  an  early  morning  sun,  our  warlike  aspect  —  armed  as  we  were, 
some  with  lances  pointed  with  sharp  blades,  others  with  mur 
derous  rifles,  and  others,  again,  with  that  yet  more  fatal  weapon 
—  when  in  skilful  hands  —  the  Indian  bow  —  contrasted  vividly 
with  the  quiet  sentiment  of  the  verdant  plains  over  which  we 
were  moving,  glittering  and  redolent  as  the  happy  landscape 
was,  with  the  rainbow-beauty  and  the  Araby  odours  of  myriad 
beautiful  flowers.  It  did  not  seem  possible  that  so  smiling  an 
Eden  could  be  the  home  of  creatures  uncouth  and  wild  as  the 
burly  bison  ;  still  less,  that  it  could  ever  be  the  terrible  theatre 
of  such  scenes  of  deadly  struggle  as  that  we  were  anticipating. 


192  THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

"  For  a  while,  as  we  vainly  looked  for  signs  of  the  enemy, 
we  felt  that  the  time  and  scene  were  indeed  unsuited  to  our 
cruel  purpose;  but  there,  at  last,  far  away  across  the  broad 
savannah,  looking  in  the  hazy  distance  like  a.  small  black 
cloud  upon  the  horizon,  were  the  grazing  herds,  quite  uncon 
scious  of  the  fate  awaiting  them — and  so  they  continued  to 
be,  as,  spurring  our  trusty  nags,  we  scoured  the  plain  in  hot 
pursuit.  It  was  not  until  we  had  approached  quite  near  to 
them,  that  they  became  aware  of  their  danger;  when  suddenly 
pausing  in  their  rough  gambols,  they  raised  a  bellowing  thun 
der  of  affright,  and  dashed  in  mad  panic  over  the  prairies. 
Now,  indeed,  we  felt  that  we  were  in  that  fairy  land  of  which 
our  childhood  and  youth  had  so  often  and  so  wildly  dreamed: 
and  when  the  first  clear  ring  of  the  rifle,  was  followed  by  the 
death  roar  and  heavy  fall  of  a  ponderous  bull,  and  a  perfect 
frenzy  of  blind  terror  had  seized  upon  the  swaying  herds,  we 
forgot  everything,  but  the  all-absorbing  passion  of  the  hour. 
Blood,  blood,  was  the  terrible  cry  of  our  hungry  souls,  as  if  we 
had  never  had  gentler  nutriment  in  all  our  life.  On  we 
bounded,  now  after,  now  in  the  midst  of  the  maddened  brutes. 
Carcass  after  carcass  fell  panting  upon  the  torn  and  trampled 
plain,  under  the  fatal  balls,  or  the  no  less  sure  lances  of  the 
veterans  of  our  party:  but  as  yet  neither  my  amateur  compan 
ions  nor  myself  had  done  more  than  keep  out  of  the  way  of 
the  ugly  beasts. 

"  This  '  masterly  inactivity,'  said  I  to  myself  at  last,  may 
have  answered  well  enough  for  Fabius,  but  will  never  do  for 
Megilp !  And  raising  a  mental  cry  of  '  Liberty  or  death !' 
I  put  after  an  astounding  creature,  big  and  black  as  the  devil 
himself. 

u  '  Only  chuck  a  little  salt  on  his  tail,  and  you'll  get  him 
sartain,'  cried  an  old  ranger,  sarcastically,  as  he  observed  the 
culmination  of  my  desperate  purpose. 


MEGILP'S  EXPERIENCE  IN  BUFFALO-HUNTING.  193 

"  '  Sing  him  a  hymn ;  give  him  "  Old  Hundred"  in  his  right 
ear,'  shouted  another,  maliciously,  '  that  '11  fetch  him  at  wonst, 
sure  as  snags.' 

"  '  Coax  him  gentle,  and  you'll  saddle  him  nice,'  laughed  a 
third,  as  an  unlocked  for  lunge  of  the  creature,  brought  him  so 
near  to  me,  that  for  an  instant,  half  losing  my  seat,  I  fell 
upon  his  shaggy  back.  In  a  twinkling,  however,  I  shied  off, 
and  raising  my  '  weapon,'  let  fly  both  the  barrels  at  once,  with 
such  unexpected  success,  that  down  came  the  buffalo  with  a  bel 
low  and  a  crash,  that  made  me  for  an  instant,  think  that  the 
prairie  had  '  bust.'  Unfortunately,  though,  he  keeled  over  the 
wrong  way,  and  dropped  plump  under  my  horse's  nose,  placing 
me  in  imminent  jeopardy  of  impalement  on  his  ugly  horns. 
I  began  to  feel  a  higher  esteem  for  Fabius,  when  a  timely 
arrow  whizzed  by  my  swimming  head,  and  entering  that 
of  my  victim,  saved  my  life — but  not  my  breeches.  The  'en 
vious  Casca'  had  made  sad  work  there,  and  the  laugh  which 
I  had  levelled,  not  long  before,  at  the  grotesque  costume  of  our 
guide,  was  now,  most  vexatiously  turned  back  upon  myself. 

"'Ain't  the  gentleman  afeard  of  catching  cold?'  asked  one 
tenderly. 

"  '  I'm  blasted  sorry  I  ain't  got  a  handkerchief  to  lend  him,' 
said  another  with  almost  tearful  sympathy. 

" '  What  a  pictur'  he'd  be  in  the  settlements,'  added  a 
third. 

"  '  Never  mind,  don't  cry,'  said  a  fourth.  { It's  rayther  un 
pleasant  of  course.  But  the  hide  will  make  you  a  new  pair, 
and  one  more  to  be  depended  on  than  them  woman's  duds.' 

"  However,  I  managed  to  bear  up  against  all  this  laughing 
raillery,  when  I  considered  how  much  worse  the  event  might 
have  been ;  and  other  thoughts  drew  the  attention  of  my  com 
rades  from  my  misadventure.  Then  the  chase  over,  there  fol 
lowed  the  preparations  for  taking  care  of  the  fruits — I  mean 
13 


194  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

the  meats  of  our   butchery,   and  the  care  of  concocting  the  re 
past,  for  which  our  appetites  were  so  well  sharpened. 

'"But  I  assure  you,  gentlemen,'  said  Mr.  Megilp,  as  he 
closed  his  anecdote,  "  I  never  sacrificed  another  pair  of  trow- 
sersat  a  buffalo-hunt." 


CHAPTER    X, 

"!N  our  passage  homeward  from  the  far  "West,  we  shall 
find  it  very  desirable,  if  not  necessary,  to  traverse  the  waters 
of  the  beautiful  Ohio,"  said  Mr.  Deepredde,  "  and  this  episode 
will  not,  I  assure  you,  gentlemen,  prove  the  least  interesting 
in  our  journey. 

"  Did  the  scenery  of  la  belle  riviere  not  offer  to  the  eye  so 
many  a  winding  bout  of  linked  loveliness  as  we  delight  in 
here,  there  is  yet  matter  for  a  world  of  pleasing  thought  in 
the  contemplation  of  the  prosperous  fortunes  of  the  many 
great  States  which  lie  upon  its  banks,  and  whose  resources  it 
has  so  much  served  to  develop.  As  we  sail,  we  gaze  in 
charmed  surprise,  upon  the  thriving  towns  and  the  fertile 
fields  of  Illinois  and  Indiana,  Ohio  and  Kentucky,  all  wilder 
nesses  half  a  century  ago,  and  now  holding,  in  wealth,  popula 
tion,  and  power,  the  highest  rank  among  the  nations  of  our 
vast  confederacy.  I  must  confess  that  I  should  like  to  dwell 
long  upon  this  glorious  picture  of  human  enterprise  and  happi 
ness,  but  that  such  a  portrait,  however  seductive,  would  carry 
us  beyond  the  scope  of  these  reunions.  And  I  am  impatient, 
moreover,  to  read  to  you  a  graphic  description  of  the  pictorial 


196  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

attraction  of  our  river,  in  some  extracts  from  an  unpublished 
letter  to  our  estimable  host.  The  writer  is  an  intelligent 
lover  of  Nature,*  and  is  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  scenes 
of  which  he  speaks. 

"  '  John  Randolph,'  he  says,  '  had  the  misfortune  upon  his 
only  trip  to  the  Ohio,  to  find,  going  and  coming,  ice  upon  one 
occasion,  and  low  water  upon  the  other.  '  So  this  is  your 
beautiful  river !'  he  cried ;  '  frozen  one  half  of  the  year,  and 
dried  up  during  the  other !'  But  this  sarcastic  note  of  our 
grumbling  Virginian  must  be  taken  with  a  due  degree  of 
allowance  for  his  usual  extravagant  style.  Though  the  Ohio 
is  not  as  free  from  ice  as  the  Eio  Grande,  nor  as  deep  as  the 
Hudson,  yet  it  was  not  inaptly  that  the  early  French  explorers 
called  it  '  the  beautiful  river.' 

" '  For  a  thousand  miles  it  flows  from  the  rising  towards 
the  setting  sun,  in  almost  the  same  parallel  of  latitude,  and, 
while  it  has  not  the  broad,  sweeping  banks  of  the  Mississippi, 
not  the  palisaded  heights  and  the  bold  mountain  borders  of 
the  Hudson,  each  shore  offers  a  grateful  medium  between  the 
abruptness  of  the  one,  and  the  level  monotony  of  the  other. 

"  '  Two  long  liies  of  gentle  hills  mark  its  course  from  its 
source,  almost  without  interruption,  to  its  confluence  with  the 
father  of  waters ;  between  these  two  picturesque  ranges,  it 
pursues  its  quiet  way,  undisturbed,  excepting  at  Louisville,  by 
rapid  or  cascade  whatever.  The  bed  of  the  stream  is  usually 
a  yellow  sand,  thickly  sprinkled  with  blue  and  gray  pebbles, 
with  occasionally  a  few  shells  of  periwinkle  and  bivalve  mus 
cles,  which  being  left  upon  the  sand-bars  by  the  falling  of  the 
waters  in  August  and  September,  afford  a  rare  feast  for  the 
crows  and  the  congregations  of  buzzards,  who  wheel  and  circle 
gracefully  through  the  sultry  autumnal  air,  or  sit  upon  the 

*  W   "W.  Fosdick,  Esq. 


DIAMOND   ISLAND.  197 

dead  boughs  of  tall  trees,  sunning  their  outstretched  wings.  At 
this  season  may  also  be  seen  poised  in  mid  air  upon  flapping 
pinions,  like  a  king-fisher,  the  great  fish-hawk,  who  often, 
through  cowardice,  loses  his  game  to  the  bald  eagle,  the 
monarch  of  all  that  feathered  world.  Here  and  there,  knee 
deep  in  the  slow  current,  the  blue  heron  stalks  carefully 
along  in  fear  of  frightening  his  victims,  the  buffalo-perch  or 
the  red-horse,  which  are  waving  their  fins  as  they  lie  sucking 
upon  the  bottom ;  or  standing  upon  some  snag  which  protrudes 
from  the  water,  is  the  lesser  bittern,  drawn  up  into  the  smallest 
possible  space,  apparently  fast  asleep;  but  let  some  uncon 
scious  minnow  or  silver-side  unfortunately  swim  by,  and  in 
an  instant  an  arrowy  neck  is  shot  out,  and  Mr.  Silver-side 
snapped  up  by  our  sleepy  acquaintance. 

"  '  The  banks  of  the  Ohio  are,  perhaps,  more  indebted  for 
their  beauty  to  the  majestic  forests  with  which  they  are  clothed 
than  to  any  other  feature ;  and,  like  great  emeralds  set  in  the 
silver  stream,  the  exquisite  islands  which  dot  all  its  course, 
are  the  best  evidence  of  the  rich  alluvion  that  has  fed  these 
forests  from  time  untold.  Civilization  has  made,  and  is  making 
many  ravages  and  inroads  upon  the  beauty  of  these  islands, 
but  those  who  have  seen  them  in  their  primitive  state  can 
never  forget  their  charms.  Blennerhasset's  Island  is  a  famous 
and  favourite  spot,  but  the  crown-jewel  in  this  cluster  of  the 
Ohio  brilliants,  is  the  beautiful  DIAMOND  ISLAND  in  the 
vicinage  of  Louisville. 

"  '  This  island  is  a  microcosm  of  the  valley  of  the  Ohio — an 
arboreal  and  floral  epitome  of  its  productions.  I  saw  it  when 
not  an  axe  had  touched  its  primeval  forest  growth,  nor  the 
foot  of  domestic  cattle  crushed  the  green  watery  leaves  which 
covered  the  ground.  Here,  in  the  latter  end  of  April  or  the 
beginning  of  May — according  as  the  season  was  hot  or  cold — • 
could  be  seen  a  sight,  in  the  way  of  flowers,  which  surpasses 


198  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

fable.  Over  an  area  half  a  mile  in  width  and  two  miles  in 
breadth,  stretched  one  unbroken  bed  of  blossoms — one  mass  of 
multi-coloured  bloom.  Stately  Indian  turnips  held  up  their 
striped  purple  tulip  bowls ;  bright  yellow  golden-cups  touched 
glasses,  and  drank  the  morning  dew  with  the  broad-leaved 
blue-bells.  A  carpet  of  violets,  azure,  white,  and  gold,  over 
laid  the  dark  floor  of  this  beautiful  island ;  and  with  dainty 
crow-feet,  red-spiked  pinks,  and  such  familiar  flowers,  were 
commingled  a  multitude  of  strange  and  nameless  blossoms  of 
rarest  form  and  hue.  But  it  is  in  its  forest  trees  that  this  spot 
presented  the  most  wondrous  sight;  here  the  pawpaw — usually 
but  a  shrub — rose  from  out  this  rich  soil  to  the  high  dignity  of 
its  proudest  woody  peers,  and  mingled  its  broad  green  leaves 
and  brown  blossoms  with  the  box  elder,  the  water-willow,  and 
the  red-bud;  while  rising  far  above  these,  and  towering  to  a 
height  which  no  tree  ever  attains  in  the  eastern  portion  of  our 
Union,  could  be  seen  the  black-berry,  the  cotton-wood,  the  black 
walnut,  the  red  elm,  the  white-armed  hollow  sycamore,  and 
that  glorious  monarch  of  all  "Western  trees,  the  gigantic  yellow 
poplar — often  five  feet  in  diameter  and  a  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  in  height — rose  here  in  its  full  majesty.  But  to  those 
who  have  never  seen  the  original  forests  of  the  West,  it  will  be 
impossible  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  extent  and  luxuriance 
of  the  wild  grape  vine.  Every  tree  was  interlaced  with  its 
winding  folds,  and  its  great  tendrils,  frequently  more  than  a 
hundred  feet  in  length,  disported  themselves  in  the  sunshine 
upon  the  crowns  of  the  tallest  trees ;  or,  when  winter  had 
stripped  the  forest  of  its  foliage,  the  clustering  fruit  hung 
thickly  in  purple  bunches ;  while,  like  trees  of  very  fire,  the 
Indian  arrow  bushes  flamed  through  all  the  island,  with  their 
scarlet  berries,  giving  a  most  startling  and  brilliant  effect  in 
times  of  snow. 

"  '  But  these  scenes  are  passing  ;    the  primitive  forests  melt 


THE  CAVE  IN  THE  ROCK.  199 

away ;  the  deer  is  no  longer  to  be  seen  bounding  through 
the  yellow  blooming  spice- wood  bushes ;  the  black  and  glossy 
wild  turkey  cannot  be  seen  scratching  among  the  dry  leaves 
for  beech-nuts;  nor  is  the  thunder  of  the  pheasant's  drum  to  be 
heard  upon  the  mossy  log  at  even-tide. 

"  '  The  raftsmen  who  used  to  come  down  lazily  upon  their 
loads  of  lumber  and  shingles,  floating  with  the  tide,  are  dis 
appearing  ;  and  with  them,  the  flat-boatmen  and  the  wood- 
boatmen  are  fast  being  lost  sight  of,  as  their  predecessors  the 
keel-boatmen  have  been  long  since ;  steamboats  have  taken 
their  place,  and  the  old  fellows  who  used  to  wind  their  long 
tin  horns  and  send  their  merry  music  up  through  the  hills, 
have  vanished,  feeling,  that  for  them,  "  Othello's  occupation's 
gone !" 

" '  The  last  of  these  pioneers  of  the  waters  of  the  Ohio  that  I 
saw,  was  the  old  knot  of  fishermen  who  used  to  camp  upon  the 
pebbly  sand-bar  which  stretched  up  from  the  head  of  Diamond 
Island — in  their  weather-beaten  tent,  drawing  their  seines  by 
night,  and  hunting  or  sleeping  by  day.  But  the  gray  squirrel 
that  fed  upon  the  walnuts,  and  the  wild  pigeons  that  plucked 
the  purple  clusters  of  the  grape,  are  gone.  The  game,  too,  has 
fled,  and  the  idle,  harmless  hunters  and  fishers  with  their  blue 
striped  or  red  flannel  shirts  are  to  be  seen  there  no  more. 
The  axe  has  been  busy.  Cattle  and  hogs  have  trodden  upon 
the  wild  flowers'  richest  'bed,  and  the  bloom  has  gone  from 
Nature's  garden  forever.  Art  cannot  restore  it.  Cultivation 
and  science  may  make  new  plants  to  spring  up,  but  the  Eden 
beauty  of  the  scene  is  past  away,  beyond  the  ingenuity  of  man 
to  restore.  Its  vanished  loveliness,  though,  will  ever  dwell 
in  my  memory,  as  the  Hesperian  Island  of  the  Occident.' " 

"Our  correspondent  has  made  no  mention,"  said  Mr.  Brown- 
oker,  "of  the  notable  object  on  the  Ohio  which  forms  the 
study  of  our  evening's  sketch.  The  famous  cave  in  the  rock 


200  THE   ROMANCE  OF  AMEK1CAN  LANDSCAPE. 

is  one  of  the  curiosities  of  Illinois.  Its  grand  inural  portico, 
presents,  as  we  approach,  a  very  picturesque  aspect.  We  en 
ter  the  cavern,  under  a  semicircular  arch  of  about  eighty  feet 
span,  and  twenty-five  feet  in  height,  and,  ascending  gradually 
from  the  bed  of  the  river,  we  are  enabled  to  penetrate  readily  to 
the  terminus,  at  a  distance  of  less  than  two  hundred  feet. 
Though  the  scene  is  one  of  no  slight  pictorial  beauty,  its 
great  attraction  lies  in  the  tales  which  it  tells  of  adventure 
and  crime.  At  different  periods  it  has  been  the  dreaded 
haunt  of  various  bands  of  murderous  vagabonds.  In  years 
gone  by,  the  stout-hearted  boatmen  of  the  Ohio  passed  the 
lawless  spot  with  nervous  trepidation." 

"Speaking  of  caverns,  a  common  commodity  hereabouts," 
said  Mr.  Asphaltum,  "we  are  now  on  the  threshold  of  the 
great  Mammoth  Cave,  the  boast  of  Kentucky.  This  surpri 
sing  freak  in  the  handiwork  of  Nature  is  one  of  the  most  re 
markable  of  its  class  in  the  world.  Its  spacious  chambers 
must  have  made  fitting  dens  and  lairs  for  the  mastodons  and 
other  giant  animals  which  once  flourished  here.  It  is  the 
wondering  work  of  days  to  follow  the  windings  of  this  mighty 
Tartarus,  and  examine  its  numberless  chambers,  galleries,  sta 
lactites,  mounds,  and  streams.  It  has  been  explored  for  many 
dark  miles,  without  any  sign  of  a  terminus.  The  scale  of  this 
strange  subterranean  architecture,  may  be  inferred  from  the 
grand  dimensions  of  its  stupendous  halls;  one  of  which  covers 
an  area  of  two  acres,  and  is  arched  by  a  single  rocky  dome  a 
hundred  and  twenty  feet  in  height.  This  famous  cave  is  the 
resort,  not  only  of  the  curious  lover  of  Nature,  but  of  invalids 
who  seek  the  benefit  of  its  equable  temperature.  Human 
bones  are  found  here  to  such  extent,  as  to  lead  to  the  belief 
that  the  cave  was  a  place  of  sepulture  to  the  races  which 
formerly  occupied  the  land." 

"  Kentucky,"  said  Mr.  Blueblack,    "  is  deservedly  honoured 


KENTUCKY.  201 

with  the  possession  of  this  wondrous  scene.  This  hardy  State 
is  the  oldest  of  the  "Western  nations,  and  the  most  attractive  of 
the  Ohio  group,  both  in  picturesque  charms  and  in  historical 
record.  Under  the  indomitable  Boone,  Kentucky  led  the  peril 
ous  van  in  the  settlement  of  this  region,  suffering  for  her  sister 
States  all  the  fearful  hardships  and  bloody  wounds  which  are 
ever  the  lot  of  the  bravest.  It  is  a  thrilling  story,  that  of  her 
early  life :  dyed  with  the  blood  of  her  ill-fated  people. 

"The  physical  aspect  of  the  country  is,  in  many  parts, 
of  remarkable  interest,  displaying  long  ranges  of  mountain 
height;  while  the  noble  rivers  which  she  sends  into  the  Ohio, 
far  excel,  in  beauty,  any  portion  of  that  great  water.  The 
Kanawha,  which  we  visited  while  in  Virginia,  the  Cumberland, 
the  Tennessee,  the  Kentucky,  and  the  famous  "Salt  Eiver,"  of 
political  waggery,  all,  at  intervals,  abound  in  noble  themes  for 
the  pen  and  the  pencil.  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  seen 
a  more  inspiring  sight  than  that  which  I  once  enjoyed,  gazing 
abroad  from  the  summit  of  the  Lookout  Mountain,  in  the  ex 
treme  north-western  nook  of  Georgia,  over  a  rich  and  limitless 
valley  where  flowed  the  winding  waters  of  the  Tennessee! 
The  Kentucky  Eiver,  in  its  long  course,  makes  many  grand 
passes  through  the  hills,  forming  rich  examples  of  wild  river 
view — chasm,  crag,  and  waterfall:  you  remember,  perhaps,  Mr. 
Willis's  glowing,  yet  truthful  memories  of  a  recent  visit  to  the 
banks  of  the  Kentucky. 

"  The  States  bordering  on  the  northern  shore  of  the  Ohio — 
Illinois,  Indiana, .  and  Ohio  itself — do  not  possess  any  very 
striking  pictorial  interest  beyond  the  novel  impressions  which 
the  stranger  will  receive  gazing  upon  the  great  flowered  prai 
ries.  To  Illinois  may  be  applied  much  of  what  has  been  said 
here  about  the  Mississippi  Valley,  of  which  it  is  a  portion.  Tbe 
shores  of  the  Illinois  Eiver  offer,  here  and  there,  bluffs  of 
commanding  heights;  famous  among  which  are  the  sandstone 


202  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

precipices  of  Starved  Rock,  The  Lover's  Leap,  and  Buffalo 
Rock.  The  "  Cave"  of  our  portfolio,  as  we  have  said,  apper 
tains  to  the  domain  of  Illinois. 

"  In  Indiana,  the  chief  notabilities  are  the  specimens  of 
those  subterranean  abodes  so  abundant  in  the  "West.  The 
great  cavern  called  the  Wyandotte,  is  claimed  to  rival  the 
grandeur  even  of  the  Mammoth  Cave  of  Kentucky.  The 
Wabash,  the  principal  river,  flows  chiefly  through  table  and 
swamp  lands,  and  comes  in  the  same  pictorial  category  as  the 
streams  of  the  South  West.  Here  is  that  famous  battle  ground 
of  Tippecanoe,  where  General  Harrison  repulsed  the  Shawnees 
in  1811,  and  won  a  watchword  to  beat  the  Democrats  in  the 
Presidential  struggle  of  1841 — for  all  remember,  gentlemen, 
the  magic  refrain  of  'Tippecanoe  and  Tyler  too!'  Lake  Michi 
gan  skirts  the  north-western  part  of  Indiana  for  some  forty 
miles,  and  opens  to  it  the  valuable  commerce  of  our  vast  in 
land  seas." 

"  Apropos,"  said  Mr.  Deepredde,  "  Blueblack's  allusion  to  the 
Great  Lakes  reminds  me  that  we  shall  not  find  a  better  oppor 
tunity  than  the  present,  to  make  the  hasty  visit  due  from  us  to 
the  States  of  their  vicinage.  Here  we  shall  shake  hands  with 
little  Michigan,  not  a  very  handsome  lass,  and  with  buxom 
Wisconsin,  and  her  Western  neighbour,  the  young  Iowa.  The 
surface  of  the  last  mentioned  States  is  generally  composed  of 
great  rolling  prairies — the  pastures  where  the  Great  Spirit  of 
the  red-men  feeds  his  flocks  and  herds  of  buffalo,  and  elk, 
and  deer.  Wisconsin  is  fruitful  in  objects  of  antiquarian  in 
terest:  earth- works  fashioned  in  the  shape  of  men  and  animals, 
and  evidently  the  achievement  of  races,  antecedent  to  our  Indian 
tribes.  At  Aztalan,  there  is  a  venerable  fortification,  five  hun 
dred  and  fifty  yards  long,  nearly  three  hundred  feet  wide,  and 
between  four  and  five  in  height.  Another  work,  resembling 
a  man  in  a  recumbent  attitude,  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet 


THE    FAR   WEST.  203 

long,  and  thirty  feet  across  the  trunk,  is  to  be  seen  near 
the  blue  mounds.  And  at  Prairie,  another,  like  unto  a  turtle, 
fifty-six  feet  in  length !  Some  of  these  remains  resemble  the 
extinct  mastodon,  while  others  are  so  defaced,  as  to  entirely 
obscure  the  design  of  the  architects.  A  part  of  that  beautiful 
expansion  of  the  Mississippi,  called  Lake  Pepin,  lies  in  this 
State.  Among  the  links  of  the  mural  precipices,  which  en 
close  the  waters  of  Lake  Pepin,  is  the  celebrated  Maiden's 
Eock,  a  charming  cliff  of  five  hundred  feet,  which  Mr.  As- 
phaltum  forgot  to  show  on  his  panorama  of  the  Mississippi. 
Nearly  all  the  rivers  of  "Wisconsin  present  attractive  pictures  of 
rapid,  and  waterfall,  and  mural  bluff:  and  like  the  Territory 
of  Minnesota,  too,  of  pond  and  lake. 

"In  the  last  mentioned  feature,  Minnesota  is  wonderfully 
rich.  The  north-eastern  corner  of  the  map  of  this  Territory  is 
completely  riddled  with  the  little  black  holes  which  stand  for 
these  sparkling  eyes  of  Nature.  Not  to  mention  Lakes  Supe 
rior  and  Michigan,  on  its  northern  and  eastern  boundaries, 
respectively,  there  is  Lake  Pepin,  the  Lake  of  the  "Woods, 
Eainy  Lake,  Eed,  Devil,  and  Spirit  Lakes,  and  many  others. 
These  clear  pebbly  waters  sometimes  cover  an  area  of  no  less 
than  forty  miles. 

"  Minnesota, "  too,  has  many  picturesque  rivers,  flowing  into 
the  Missouri  on  her  western  limits,  eastward  into  the  Missis 
sippi,  and  northward  into  Hudson's  Bay. 

"  In  Michigan,  there  are  many  small  lakes,  which  give 
beauty,  here  and  there,  to  her  generally  flat  and  uninteresting 
surface.  The  Straits  of  Mackinaw,  which  divide  the  northern 
and  southern  peninsulas,  and  connect  the  waters  of  Lake  Michi 
gan  and  Lake  Huron,  are  replete  with  attractive  scenery.  The 
bold  shores  of  the  Island  of  Mackinaw  in  these  Straits,  rise  to 
a  perpendicular  height  of  nearly  two  hundred'  feet.  Not  far 
off,  is  the  narrow  channel  of  St.  Mary's,  linking  the  floods  of 


204  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

Huron  and  Lake  Superior,  and  opening  to  us  a  view  of  the 
far-famed  Pictured  Eocks,  formed  of  parti-coloured  sand-stone, 
and  calling  up  dreams  of  vanished  or  fabled  architecture,  in 
their  fantastic  fashionings." 

"  The  Pictured  Eocks,"  said  Mr.  Megilp,  the  talk  here 
coming  to  a  halt ;  "  that  reminds  me  of  an  adventure  of  mine, 
thereabouts,  which,  if  you  are,  as  I  think  you  must  be,  tired 
with  your  long  travel,  I  will  relate.  It  promised  to  be  a 
squally  affair,  but  turned  out 


after 


"  You  remember  what  I  said  to  you,  at  Tallulah,  about  my 
propensity  to  quiz  the  natives,  in  assuming  all  sorts  of  charac 
ters  and  professions?  At  the  time  to  which  I  now  refer,  I 
took  a  fancy  to  be  deaf  as  a  post,  making  it  necessary  for  my 
companion,  and  all  whom  I  met,  to  bellow  like  bulls,  in  order 
that  I  might  hear  and  understand  them.  In  this  way  I  often 
sorely  perplexed  and  confused  the  worthy  people.  Thus,  our 
hostess  would  ask  if  I  liked  my  tea  seasoned — referring  to  a 
proposed  admixture  of  sugar  and  cream — when  I  would  very 
innocently  tell  her  that  they  were  all  very  well  when  I  left 
home,  excepting  the  twins,  who  were  teething,  and  had  the 
measles  terrible  hard. 

" '  No,  no !  not  the  children !  I  asked,  '  would  you 
like ' 

"'Thirteen  altogether,  at  present,  and  a. good  prospect  for 
more,  thank  you !  As  likely  a  looking  squad  of  boys  and 
girls  as  you  would  wish  to  see  very  near  you.  Though,  to 
be  sure,  the  twins  are ' 

"  '  You  must  speak  loud,  madam,'  my  friend  would  say,  in- 


NOTHING  AFTER   ALL.  205 

terposing  at  such  moments.  'He  is  very  deaf,  and  can  scarcely 
hear  a  thunder  storm.' 

"  Eetiring  one  evening  to  my  quarters,  in  a  wayside  hut, 
after  a  play  of  this  sort,  I  found  myself  separated  from  the  bed 
of  some  fellow  travellers,  only  by  a  scanty  wooden  partition, 
BO  slight  that,  despite  my  deplorable  deafness,  I  could  dis 
tinctly  hear  every  word  they  uttered. 

"  Now  I  did  not  particularly  fancy  this  close  neighbour 
hood,  for  we  had  met  these  men  before  on  our  journey,  and 
taken  a  decided  and  distrustful  aversion  to  them.  Why,  I 
know  not,  beyond  the  generally  suspicious  style  of  their  physi 
ognomies.  It  was  only  the  day  previous,  that  they  had  watched 
me  with  curious  eyes,  while  I  was  making  a  trade  for  a  horse, 
to  supply  the  place  of  one  I  had  just  lost.  I  thought  then 
that  my  well-filled  purse  was  a  grateful  object  of  contempla 
tion  to  them.  They  had,  too,  asked  a  very  long  blessing  at 
the  supper  table,  which  did  not  reassure  me,  and  scarcely  less, 
the  manner  in  which  they  kept  apart  from  the  rest  of  the 
family  through  the  evening. 

"Arranging  my  pillow,  I  resolved  to  keep  my  eyes  and 
ears  open  for  a  while,  and,  if  possible,  learn  a  little  more  of 
these  unknown  gentry;  a  resolve  which  was  not  abandoned, 
when  I  heard  one  of  them  caution  the  other  against  talking 
so  loud  as  to  awaken  the  man  in  the  next  room — meaning  my 
watchful  self — and  the  answer,  that  there  was  no  danger,  since 
I  was  too  deaf  to  hear  even  Gabriel's  trumpet. 

"  Though  I  could  not  understand  all  that  was  said,  since 
they  spoke  in  a  very  low  key,  either  from  habit,  the  influence 
of  the  silent  hour,  or  an  undefined  fear,  after  all,  that  they 
might  be  overheard;  yet  I  picked  up  enough  to  assure  me  that 
my  companion  and  myself  were  the  subject  of  their  dialogue, 
and  what  I  did*  hear  was  not  at  all  calculated  to  allay  my 
curiosity. 


206  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

"  '  They  do  not  seem  to  be  quite  sure  of  the  safety  of  the 
roads  here,'  said  one,  '  for  I  have  observed  that  they  are  so 
well  armed  that  it  would  be  rather  risky  to  attack  them.' 

"  '  Of  course  they  are  armed,'  said  the  other,  '  carrying  so 
much  gold  about  them,  as  they  do.  You  observed  the  heavy 
purse  of  that  handsome  looking  fellow,  when  he  was  paying 
for  his  nag  yesterday.' 

" '  To  be  sure  I  did.  That's  a  prize,  with  all  there  no 
doubt  is,  besides,  worth  striking  for ;  and  these  chaps  are  not 
much  protected  by  their  pistols,  though  they  do  make  a  grand 
display  of  them.  Any  greenhorn,  with  a  sharp  eye,  might 
help  himself  at  his  pleasure.  They  would  be  frightened  out  of 
their  skins  at  the  first  intimation  of  an  attack.' 

" '  Did  you  not  say  that  they  take  the  new  road  in  the 
morning  ?' 

"  '  Yes :  so  I  heard  them  tell  the  landlord.' 

"  '  Well ;  that  will  be  convenient  for  us ;  and  I  have  no 
doubt,  thjby  will  be  very  glad  of  our  company  as  they  go 
through  the  forest,  at  Murderer's  Hollow !' 

"  At  this  last  remark  they  both  laughed  a  chuckling,  sneer 
ing  laugh,  which  went  far  to  confirm  my  worst  suspicions. 
But  all  my  attention  was  required  by  the  growing  interest  of 
the  prolonged,  yet  disjointed  conversation. 

"  '  It  would  be  rather  ventursome  to  waylay  a  man  on  the 
high  road,  while  so  many  are  abroad  on  the  way  to  the  camp 
meeting.' 

"  '  So  much  the  easier  to  escape  in  the  crowd.  I  tell  you 
it's  the  very  best  time  in  the  world,  on  that  very  account.' 

" '  Perhaps  it  is ;  anyhow,  we  must  be  wary  how  we  pro 
ceed,  for  I  have  some  respect  yet  for  my  neck.' 

"'Oh!  we  are  safe  enough!  old  stagers  like  us!  "We'll 
get  a  start  of  them  in  the  morning,  and  they'll  be  up  to  us  by 
the  time  we  are  ready.  We'll  look  after  the  burial  there  in 


NOTHING   AFTER  ALL. 

the  Hollow  as  quick  as  possible,  and  then  get  to  the  meeting 
as  fast  as  we  can,  as  they  will  be  wondering  where  we  have 
been.' 

"By  this  time  I  had  heard  quite  enough  to  keep  awake 
without  much  effort ;  quite  too  much  to  sleep ;  so,  quietly 
slipping  from  my  room,  I  sought  the  apartment  of  my  com 
panion,  in  another  part  of  the  cabin,  and  made  him  as  anxious 
as  myself,  with  the  details  of  all  the  diabolic  plottery  I  had 
discovered. 

"  The  rest  of  that  long  night  we  kept  wakeful  vigil,  dis 
cussing  -our  best  mode  of  proceeding  through  the  impending 
dangers.  At  first,  we  bravely  determined  to  follow  our  origi 
nal  itinerary,  and,  if  needs  be,  take  a  brush  with  the  rapscal 
lions  ;  first,  however,  examining  our  pistols,  to  see  that  the 
charges  had  not  been  surreptitiously  withdrawn.  Then  we 
thought  of  confiding  our  suspicions  to  the  landlord,  whom,  we 
were  well  satisfied,  would  be  quite  as  much  astonished  at  the 
revelation  as  we  ourselves  had  been. 

"Finally,  however,  it  was  agreed  that  the  suspected  high 
waymen  should  be  permitted  to  start  as  they  proposed,  but, 
that  instead  of  following  them,  as  we  were  expected  to  do,  we 
would  expose  their  machinations,  and  take  a  sufficient  guard 
with  us,  to  secure  them  when  they  made  the  attack,  which  we 
should  invite. 

"  In  the  discussion  of  these  plans,  and  in  some  apprehension 
of  more  immediate  danger,  for  we  were  not  quite  certain  that 
our  worthies  would  wait  until  they  reached  Murderer's  Hollow 
for  the  execution  of  their  bloody  plots,  the  night  passed ;  and 
as  we  opened  the  shutter  to  let  in  the  welcome  light  of  the 
rising  sun,  we  saw  our  self-elected  travelling  companions,  al 
ready  in  their  saddles,  and  starting  for  '  Murderer's  Hollow !' 

"  We  looked  at  each  other  and  smiled  meaningly,  when, 
at  our  very  matutinal  breakfast,  our  host  inquired  how  we 


208  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

had  passed  the  night ;  and  the  smile  deepened,  when  it  was 
remarked  that  we  had  seemingly  quite  lost  our  appetite. 

"  The  worthy  landlord  quickly  divined  that  all  was  not 
exactly  right ;  so,  the  meal  over,  we  poured  into  his  bewil 
dered  ears  the  grand  secret  of  our  night's  experience,  and  our 
scheme  for  bringing  the  villains  to  justice. 

" '  What !'  he  cried,  at  last,  when  his  astonishment  per 
mitted  him  to  speak,  'the  men  who  were  here  last  night, 
robbers,  murderers?' 

"  '  As  sure  as  Gospel,'  said  we. 

"  '  Ha,  ha,  that's  just  it,'  screamed  our  host,  his  surprise 
giving  way  to  an  uncontrollable  fit  of  mirth.  '  Gospel !  Why 
they  are  preachers  of  the  Gospel !' 

"  '  Are  you  sure  ?'  we  asked — a  lurking  suspicion,  that  we 
had  '  sold'  ourselves,  forcing  its  way  into  our  heads.  '  And 
the  burial  in  Murderer's  Hollow?' 

"  Here  the  host  laughed  more  obstreperously  than  ever. 
'  The  burial !'  he  cried,  half  choking.  '  Why,  that's  Tom  Nu 
gent,  the  old  hunter,  who  died  the  other  day,  and  is  to  be 
put  into  the  ground  this  morning !  These  men,  you  have 
taken  for  highwaymen,  are  the  greatest  preachers  in  these 
parts.  They  are  going  to  officiate  at  old  Tom's  funeral  this 

morning,  on  their  way  to  the  camp  meeting  at  .  Why, 

I  heard  them  say  that  they  should  be  glad  to  have  your  com 
pany  on  the  journey,  especially  through  Murderer's  Hollow, 
as  you  seemed  to  be  well-armed,  and  the  road  was  not  so  safe 
as  it  might  be.  They  said  they  should  go  ahead,  so  that  they 
might  attend  the  funeral  and  be  ready  to  join  you  when  you 
came  along.  Ha,  ha,  ha!' 

"  '  Ha,  ha,  ha !'  we  repeated,  but  not  quite  so  roysterously 
as  Boniface ;  for  as  the  women  and  children,  gathering  around, 
had  managed  to  pick  up  the  thread  of  the  story,  and  now 
joined  heartily  in  the  merriment,  we  felt  sorry  that  we  had 


NOTHING  AFTER  ALL.  209 

not  got  the  start,  instead  of  our  highwaymen,  and  were  now 
in  the  very  deepest  and  most  lonely  glen  of  Murderer's 
Hollow ! 

,    "  This  annoying  adventure  cured  me  of  my  deafness  for  a 
while,   and  read  us   a  lesson  upon    the    immorality  of   eaves 
dropping,  which  I  commend  to  your  most  serious  reflection." 
14 


CHAPTER   XL 

MR.  DEEPREDBE  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  peered  gravely 
into  the  map  of  New  York,  which  we  had  placed  under  his 
erudite  nose.  "  I  am  afraid,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  that  out 
of  the  abundance  of  your  pleasant  memories,  you  will  all  speak 
at  once,  when  I  ask  you  to  send  back  your  thoughts  to  that 
charming  feature  of  the  landscape  of  the  Empire  State,  its  ex- 
haustless  lake  scenery.  The  name  of  these  exquisite  idyls  in 
the  poetry  of  Nature,  in  our  own  State,  as  in  all  the  northern 
part  of  the  Union,  is  legion.  '  They  lie,'  says  Willis,  '  in  the 
midst  of  the  wild  forests,  like  silver  mirrors,  tranquil  and 
lovely,  mingling  a  refinement  and  an  elegance  with  the  bold 
character  of  the  scenery,  which  contrasts,  like  Una  with  the 
couchant  lion.' 

"  Everywhere,  these  silver  mirrors  repeat  the  picturesque 
beauties  of  the  New  England  hills  and  forests.  In  the  wild 
solitudes  of  Maine  the  noble  stag  looks  fearlessly  into  the  wa 
ters  of  Moosehead,  Umbagog,  Oquosuck,  Moosetucmagantic,  and 
Molechumkea-merek ;  the  names  of  Winnipissiogee  and  Squam 
always  bring  pleasant  recollections  of  New  Hampshire,  and 
equally  grateful  is  the  memory  of  the  fairy  ponds  of  western 


212  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

Connecticut.  Beautiful  lakes,  of  every  variety  of  extent  and 
character,  are  to  be  found  in  all  parts  of  New  York,  while 
through  the  northern  division,  there  extends  an  unbroken 
chain  of  them,  over  a  distance  of  nearly  two  hundred  miles. 
The  finest  part  of  this  chain  lies  among  and  around  the  Adir 
ondack  hills,  and  the  queen  of  them  all  is  the  particular  subject 
of  our  consideration  to-night — the  far-famed  Horicon,  as  the 
Indians  had  it,  Lake  Sacrament  according  to  the  French,  and, 
again,  in  plain  English,  Lake  George." 

"  The  chairman,"  said  Mr.  Yermeille,  "  may  very  properly 
Bpeak  of  fair  Horicon  as  the  gem  of  the  lake  views,  not  of 
our  own  State  alone,  but  of  the  Eepublic.  Indeed,  I  have 
heard  the  most  intelligent  travellers  confirm  my  own  opinion, 
excepting  in  the  subtle  charm  borrowed  from  the  embellish 
ments  of  art — the  fairy  chateaux  and  crumbling  tower — its 
beauties  are  not  rivalled  by  any  sister  scenes  in  the  old  world. 
Here,  with  your  permission,  I  will  turn  to  a  passage  in  Mr. 
Willis's  'brief  mentions'  of  American  Scenery,  which  I  see 
upon  the  table.  '  Loch  Katrine,'  he  says,  '  at  the  Trosachs, 
is  a  miniature  likeness  of  Lake  George.  It  is  the  only  lake 
in  Europe  that  has  at  all  the  same  style  and  degree  of  beauty. 
The  small,  green  islands,  with  their  abrupt  shores — the  emerald 
depths  of  the  water,  overshadowed  and  tinted  by  the  tenderest 
moss  and  foliage ;  the  lofty  mountains  in  the  back-ground,  and 
the  tranquil  character  of  the  lake,  over  which  the  wind  is 
arrested  and  rendered  powerless  by  the  peaks  of  the  hills  and 
the  lofty  island-summits — are  all  points  of  singular  resemblance. 
Loch  Katrine  can  scarce  be  called  picturesque,  except  at  the 
Trosachs,  however ;  while  Lake  George,  throughout  all  the 
mazes  of  its  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  islands — there  are 
said  to  be  just  this  number — preserves  the  same  wild  and 
racy  character  of  beauty.  Varying  in  size  from  a  mile  in 
length  to  the  circumference  of  a  tea-table,  these  little  islands 


LAKE   HORICON".  213 

present  the  most  multiplied  changes  of  surface  and  aspect — 
upon  some  only  moss  and  flowers,  upon  others  a  miniature 
forest,  with,  its  outer  trees  leaning  over  to  the  pellucid  bosom 
of  the  lake,  as  if  drawn  downward  by  the  reflection  of  their 
own  luxuriant  beauty.'  "With  one  more  extract,  I  will  cease 
my  trespass  on  Mr.  Willis's  pages.  '  The  mountains  on  the 
shores  of  this  exquisite  lake,  consist  of  two  great  ranges,  bor 
dering  it  from  north  to  south.  The  western  range  passes  west 
ward  of  the  north-west  bay,  at  the  head  of  which,  a  vast  spur 
shooting  towards  the  south-east,  forms  the  whole  of  the 
peninsula  between  the  bay  and  the  lake.  Both  these  ranges 
alternately  approach  the  lake,  so  as  to  constitute  a  considerable 
part  of  its  shores,  -and  recede  from  it  again  to  the  distance, 
sometimes,  of  two  or  three  miles.  The  summits  of  these  moun 
tains  are  of  almost  every  figure,  from  the  arch  to  the  bold 
bluff  and  sharp  cone.  In  some  instances,  the  loftier  ones  are 
bold,  solemn,  and  forbidding;  in  others,  they  are  clothed  and 
crowned  with  verdure.  It  is  the  peculiarity  of  Lake  George, 
that  while  all  the  world  agrees  to  speak  only  of  its  loveliness, 
it  is  surrounded  by  features  of  the  highest  grandeur  and  sub 
limity.  The  Black  Mountain  is  one  of  these  ;  and  there  is 
every  variety  of  chasm,  crag,  promontory,  and  peak,  which  a 
painter  would  require  for  the  noblest  composition  of  mountain 
scenery.' 

"  The  peninsula  mentioned  here,  as  forming  the  north-west 
bay,  extends  southward,  within  a  dozen  miles  of  the  head  of 
the  lake.  This  point  is  very  appropriately  called  the  Tongue; 
and  in  the  angles  and  interlacings  which  it  makes  with  the 
long  line  of  hills  on  either  side,  is  the  most  serviceable  ingre 
dient  in  the  fine  compositions,  presented  at  every  step  of 
progress,  by  water  or  by  land,  through  the  lower  part  of  the 
lake.  Eastward  of  the  Tongue,  lies  that  contracted  portion  of 
Horicon  called  the  Narrows,  a  passage  which,  seen  from  Sab- 


214  THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

bath  Day  Point,  at  its  northern  terminus,  offers  one  of  the 
noblest  pictures  to  be  found  in  the  whole  thirty-six  miles  of 
the  voyage  down  the  lake." 

"  While  our  Horicon,"  said  Mr.  Flakewhite,  taking  up  the 
discourse,  "wins  admiration  by  its  triple  beauty  of  unrivalled 
hill,  island,  and  water,  it  has  also,  its  trio  of  moral  charms,  in 
its  highly  poetic  humour,  its  social  life,  and  its  historic  and 
legendary  tales.  The  scenery  of  Lake  George,  under  every 
aspect  and  every  light,  cannot  fail  to  delight  and  quicken  the 
dullest  fancy.  Its  social  pleasures,  for  it  is  the  summer  home 
and  haunt  of  thousands  of  amiable  and  intelligent  tourists,  must 
soothe  and  content  the  most  ennuied  soul ;  while  the  most 
thoughtful  and  the  most  imaginative  mind  will  find  abundant 
matter  for  reflection  and  for  speculation  in  its  tradition  and 
romance.  From  one  or  other  of  these  points  of  inspiration, 
some  of  our  improvisators  will,  I  hope,  be  able  to  draw  for 
our  amusement  either  song  or  story." 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Asphaltum,  after  a  pause, 
"  so  fruitful  a  subject  as  ours,  to-night,  should  not  go  begging 
for  chroniclers ;  and,  as  I  cannot  lisp  in  numbers,  I  will  tell 
you  a  tale  of  the  heroic  period  of  Horicon — a  memento  of  our 
particular  theme,  the  shrewd  exploits  of  the  brave  Major 
Eogers — which  gives  name, to  the  scene  of  our  picture,  and 
suggests  the  baptismal  of  my  story  of 


C|e  Stomt  of  fjaricott  ;  or, 


"A  century  ago,  when  the  French  and  English  colonies  of 
America  were  contending  for  the  mastery,  they  made  the  now 
peaceful  waters  of  our  winsome  lake,  the  scene  of  their  wild 
and  bloody  deeds  —  deeds,  which  terrible  as  they  were  at  the 


THE   SCOUT  OF  HORICON.  215 

time,  now  serve  to  spread  a  halo  of  deep  historic  interest  over 
every  wave  and  island,  and  hill  of  the  neighbourhood — from 
the  once  busy  forts  of  Edward  and  William  Henry,  to  the 
far-famed  walls  of  Ticonderoga,  now  left  in  a  picturesque 
beauty  worthy  of  older  and  more  storied  lands. 

"  The  period  of  which  I  speak  was  one  of  unwonted  activity 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  American  colonies. 
The  people  now  no  longer  solely  occupied,  as  in  earlier  days, 
in  the  protection  of  their  fire-sides  against  the  cruelties  of 
their  Indian  neighbours,  were  awakening  to  the  loftier  and 
more  extensive  spirit  of  heroism,  incident  to  a  united  struggle 
against  a  powerful  foreign  foe ;  that  spirit  of  national  individu 
ality  and  dignity,  which  henceforward  continued  to  increase 
and  strengthen,  until  the  country  broke  away  from  the  bond 
age  of  foreign  rule  and  became  one  of  the  great  powers  of 
the  earth.  At  first  glance,  we  are  apt  to  underrate  the  character 
of  the  men  of  those  days,  in  so  homely  a  garb  is  it  exhibited 
to  us ;  and  yet,  it  was  grander  and  more  eventful  than  the 
thought  and  achievement,  which  in  other  days  and  circum 
stances,  won  the  applause  of  solemn  senates,  and  the  acclama 
tions  of  the  swarming  populace.  The  deeds  of  the  simple,  yet 
lion-hearted  rangers  and  partizans  of  the  colonial  and  Eevolu- 
tionary  wars,  fill  as  interesting,  if  not  as  sounding  a  page  in 
the  world's  history,  as  those  of  'the  noblest  Roman  of  them 
all.'  Among  these  humble,  yet  memorable  names,  are  those  of 
the  indefatigable  and  fearless  Marion,  the  brave  Putnam,  the 
daring  Stark,  and  the  gallant  Eogers. 

"  As  I  was  saying,  these  were  stirring  days  throughout  the 
colonies.  Virginia  and  Carolina  had  led  the  van  in  pushing 
back  the  French  intruders,  and  now  New  York  and  Massachu 
setts  coming  to  their  aid,  the  scene  of  the  war  was  transferred 
to  their  territory,  and  the  chief  operations  centred,  henceforth, 
on  Lake  George. 


216  THE  EOMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

"  The  enemy  in  the  stronghold  which  they  had  built  at 
Ticonderoga,  were  in  possession  of  the  great  highway  between 
their  territory  in  the  Canadas  and  the  possessions  of  the  colo 
nies.  The  great  aim  of  the  colonial  operations  was  to  secure 
this  important  post,  and  many  and  divers-fated  were  the  expedi 
tions  sent  out  for  this  purpose.  Under  the  nature  of  the 
circumstances  and  situation,  the  movements  of  these  expeditions 
were  guided  solely  by  the  information  gathered  by  the  wary 
and  intrepid  scouts.  The  whole  country  being  a  wilderness 
of  most  difficult  access,  and  swarming  with  the  hidden  spies 
and  parties  of  the  enemy,  the  enterprise  of  collecting  such 
information  was  as  hazardous  as  it  was  of  great  pith  and 
moment.  None  but  such  self-sacrificing  patriotism,  and  such 
exalted  daring  as  that  which  animated  the  souls  of  our  gal 
lant  rangers,  could  have  ventured  upon  the  task. 

"The  journals  of  these  scouts  present  us  with  graphic 
pictures  of  the  nature  and  risk  of  their  labour,  and  the  brave 
spirit  in  which  they  performed  it.  Some  of  these  interesting 
'  reports'  are  preserved  in  the  pages  of  the  Documentary  His 
tory  of  our  State,  a  copy  of  which  I  see  is  in  the  possession 
of  our  worthy  host.  If  he  will  hand  me  the  fourth  volume,  I 
shall  be  certain  to  interest  you  by  the  reading  of  an  extract 
or  two. 

"  Here,"  continued  Mr.  Asphaltum,  turning  over  the  leaves 
of  the  tome,  which  we  placed  before  him,  "here  is  a  passage 
from  the  journal  of  our  hero,  himself,  dated  Lake  George, 
October  14th,  1755.  '  I  Embarked,'  he  writes,  '  in  a  Birch 
Canoe,  at  the  Camps,  on  the  South  End  of  Lake  George,  with 
Four  Men  beside  my  self,  &  sailed  'twenty-five  miles,  and 
Landed  on  the  west  side  of  the  Lake,  then  travelled  by  Land, 
and  on  the  Eighteenth  Day  I  arrived  on  the  Mountains  on 
the  West  side  of  Crown  Point;  there  I  lay  that  Night,  and 
all  the  next  Day,  and  observed  the  Enemy's  motions  there 


JOURNALS   OF  THE   SCOUTS.  217 

and  about  Crown  point,  and  observed  Ambreseers  Built  upon 
the  Mount,  about  Thirty  Eods  To  the  southwest  of  Crown 
point  fort ;  in  the  Evening  went  Down  to  the  Houses  that 
was  built  upon  the  Lake  to  the  South  of  Crown  point,  & 
went  into  a  barn  that  was  filled  with  wheat  &  left  three 
men,  &  proceeded  with  one  man  To  make  further  Discoverys 
at  the  fort,  and  found  a  good  place  to  Ambush  within  Sixty 
Rods  of  the  fort,  &  Imediately  went  back  and  took  our  part 
ners  and  ambushed  at  the  proper  place  we  had  found,  and 
there  we  lay  Till  about  Ten  of  the  Clock,  &  observed  several 
canoes  passing  up  and  down  the  Lake  and  sundry  men  that 
went  out  To  work  about  the  secular  affairs,  &  Judged  the 
whole  that  was  in  the  fort  to  be  about  five  Hundred ;  at 
length  a  frenchman  Came  out  of  the  fort  Towards  us,  without 
his  gun,  and  Came  within  fifteen  Rods  of  where  we  lay ;  then 
I  with  another  man  Run  up  to  him  In  order  to  Captivate 
him,  but  he  Refused  to  Take  Quarter,  so  we  Killed  him  and 
Took  off  his  Scalp  in  plain  sight  of  the  fort,  then  Run  and 
in  plain  view  about  Twenty  Rods  &  made  our  Escape,  the 
same  Night  we  Came  Right  west  of  Tianderago  about  three 
Miles  and  upon  a  Mountain  in  plain  sight  of  their  fort  &  see 
large  Incampments  Round  it  &  heard  a  vast  number  of  small 
arms  fired.  Judged  there  to  be  Two  Thousand  men  at  Tian- 
orago ;  and  on  the  Twenty-first  Day  Got  to  our  Canoes  about 
Eight  of  the  Clock  in  the  Morning  &  found  all  safe,  and  about 
Nine  of  the  Clock  in  the  Evening  Arrived  all  well  at  our 
Encampment  where  we  set  out.  The  above  is  the  Chief  Dis 
covery  that  we  made  at  Crown  Point  and  Tianargo.' 

"In  another  'report'  to  head-quarters,  our  hero  writes, 
'  Set  out  with  a  Party  of  fifty  men  with  orders  to  Look  into 
Crown  Point  and  the  Advance  Batterys  that  is  Built  Round 
it,  the  first  Day  we  marchd  Down  the  Lake  George  about 
Eighteen  Miles  &  Campd,  so  we  proceeded  by  the  westrd  of 


218  THE   ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

the  Greate  Mountains  And  continud  our  March  until  the  2d 
of  Febry,  and  then  Clambrd  up  a  Greate  Mountain  to  the 
Westrd  of  Crown  Point  about  one  Mile,  and  gave  it  the  name 
of  Ogden's  Mount,  there  we  took  a  Particular  view  of  the 
sd  fort  and  the  Kedouts  that  is  Built  Bound  it  &  a  Plan  of 
the  same,  we  Laide  there  untill  the  Evening  then  went  Down 
the  Mountain,  marchd  through  a  small  Village  About  half  a 
mile  from  the  Fort  to  the  Sutherd,  there  we  Laide  in  Ambush 
upon  each  side  of  the  Boade  that  leads  from  the  Fort  through 
sad  Village,  there  we  laid  Until  about  nine  o'clock  in  morns, 
and  there  came  along  one  French  man  which  we  took  pris 
oner,  &  2  more  were  upon  the  Boade  a  coming  towards  us, 
but  Discovered  our  Ambush  and  made  a  speedy  escape  to 
the  fort,  and  some  of  my  men  pursued  them  within  gun  Shot 
of  the  Fort,  but  could  not  overtake  them.  So  we  Being  Dis 
covered,  thought  it  needless  to  waite  any  Longer  for  Pris 
oners,  but  Imediately  set  fire  to  the  Barns  &  Houses,  where 
was  abundance  of  Wheat  &  other  grains,  &  we  Killd  their 
Cattle,  Horses,  Hogs,  in  number  about  fifty.  Left  none 
living  in  said  village  to  our  knowledge,  about  11  o'clock  we 
marched  Homeward,  Leaving  the  Village  on  fire  the  5th  inst.' 

"  In  the  rude  style  and  orthography  of  these  journals," 
continued  the  narrator,  as  he  ended  his  reading,  "  we  have  a 
vivid  picture  of  the  rugged  exterior  of  the  heroism  of  our 
country's  history — an  exterior  which  carries  back  our  thoughts 
to  the  humble  and  uncultivated,  yet  dauntless  natures  of  the 
apostles  of  our  Christian  faith. 

"  It  was  while  on  a  service  such  as  the  extracts  which  I 
have  read,  describe,  that  our  hero  met  with  the  famous  adven 
ture  which  I  proposed  to  narrate.  Beturning  over  the  hills 
from  a  weary  and  hazardous  observation  of  the  terrible  fortress, 
his  thoughts,  as  he  pushed  through  the  dense  forests,  were 
busy  with  the  results  of  his  enterprise — so  busy  that  he  not 


ROGERS'S  ADVENTURE.  219 

only  failed  to  notice  his  near  approach  to  an  ambuscade  of 
Indians,  but  that  he  unwarily  gave  expression  to  the  satisfac 
tion  of  his  heart,  and  called  upon  himself  the  observation  of 
the  savages,  by  a  loud  and  hearty  laugh. 

"  '  I've  got  them  now,  sure  as  pisen !'  said  he,  in  a  tone 
of  happy  self-felicitation — but  at  the  same  instant,  he  caught 
a  glimpse  of  his  unlooked-for  foes — and  with  a  sudden  and 
total  change  of  countenance,  but  still  with  a  daring  insou 
ciance  of  feeling,  natural  to  him  and  his  vocation,  he  muttered, 
'and  now  they've  got  me,  true  as  Gospel!' 

"  Hemmed  in  on  all  sides,  there  was,  seemingly,  no  hope 
for  our  beleaguered  ranger.  But  his  natural  valour  and  wit 
did  not  desert  him.  "Without  waiting  to  be  captured,  he  sent 
up  a  loud  shout  for  help,  and  spreading  his  arms  towards  his 
foes,  rushed  madly  into  their  midst,  with  an  affectation  of  the 
confidence  and  joy  of  a  fugitive  finding  sanctuary. 

"  '  Quick,  quick !'  he  cried,  '  or  they'll  be  upon  us !'  point 
ing  to  some  imaginary  object  in  the  direction  from  whence  he 
had  come. 

" '  Where  ?  what  ?'  asked  a  bewildered  Frenchman,  who 
appeared  to  be  in  command  of  the  troop. 

"  '  The  Yankees !'  gasped  the  fugitive.  '  I've  give  'em  the 
slip  by  a  miracle !  I  was  coming  to  you  with  a  message  from 
the  fort,  when  they  got  hold  of  me,  and  stole  my  papers, 
the  scoundrels!  They'd  have  killed  me,  sartain,  if  I  hadn't 
watched  my  time  when  they  were  asleep  and  done  for  their 
infernal  Captain — that  diabolical  Eogers!' 

" '  Eogers !'  exclaimed  the  party,  in  one  voice,  as  they 
gathered  round  the  exhausted  rangers.  '  Have  you  killed  that 
rascal  ?' 

"  '  Yes,  yes !  I've  sent  him  to  Heaven,  sure  enough !  I 
gave  him  one  dig,  and  it  settled  him  without  a  word.  He 
didn't  so  much  as  say  "  thank  'ee,"  the  ungrateful  dog !  Then 


220        THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

I  stripped  him,  and  putting  on  his  nasty  rags,  coolly  passed 
the  sentinels,  and  ran  for  my  life.  When  I  saw  you,  I  was 
afeared  that  I'd  fallen  into  their  dastardly  hands  again,  but 
thank  God,  I'm  safe  now,  and  if  we  make  haste  we  may  meet 
the  imps,  and  get  back  the  messages ' 

"  The  party  were  so  rejoiced  at  the  capture  of  their  dreaded 
foe,  the  redoutable  Rogers,  and  our  hero  played  his  part  with 
such  perfect  aplomb,  that  they  did  not  delay  to  question  the 
truth  of  his  story,  but  set  off  in  all  haste  towards  the  English 
quarters — the  direction  indicated  by  the  fugitive,  as  the  where 
abouts  of  his  late  captors. 

"  They  continued  the  search  eagerly,  but  without  success, 
until  another  night  brought  them  to  a  halt.  Fatigued  with 
their  extraordinary  labours,  and  assisted  by  the  somnolent 
effects  of  a  jug  of  whisky,  which  our  hero  adroitly  managed  to 

IP 

get  down  their  throats,  they  soon  sank  into  a  deeper  repose 
than  the  imaginary  one  which  had  facilitated  his  fancied  escape 
on  the  previous  night. 

"  Waiting  patiently  until  the  whole  party  seemed  to  be 
either  asleep  or  unobservant  of  his  motions,  he  quietly  stole 
from  the  circle,  and  again  breathed  freely  '  in  the  wilderness, 
alone'  ;  but,  as  his  changeful  destiny  would  have  it,  he  was 
not  quite  alone ;  as  he  suddenly  discovered,  when  he  ran 
rudely  against  an  unlooked-for  out-post.  In  a  twinkling,  the 
fugitive  snatched  the  tomahawk  from  the  hand  of  the  aston 
ished  sentinel,  and  buried  it  in  his  head,  but  not  with  sufficient 
celerity  to  prevent  his  sending  up  a  cry  of  alarm,  which 
aroused  the  sleepers  to  a  knowledge  of  his  flight,  and  to  a 
torturing  suspicion  of  the  ruse  by  which  they  had  been  so 
readily  deceived. 

"  Rogers  did  not  stop  to  look  behind  him,  knowing  that 
his  safety  now  laid  in  his  legs  alone.  He  had  at  all  times  a 
tolerable  degree  of  coniidence  in  these  good  friends,  which  was 


ROGERS'S   SLIDE.  221 

now  increased  by  the  thought  of  the  fine  start  he  had  got  of 
his  pursuers,  and  of  the  hesitation  and  delay  their  surprise 
would  create.  Upon  the  latter  advantage,  however,  he  soon 
found  that  he  could  count  but  little.  It  was  only  at  intervals 
that  he  managed  to  gain  sufficiently  upon  his  foes  to  lose  the 
sounds  of  their  pursuit.  In  his  eager  haste,  he  for  a  moment 
mistook  his  course,  and  escape  now  no  longer  appeared  possible, 
as  he  suddenly  found  himself  upon  the  brow  of  a  huge,  mural 
precipice,  overhanging  the  lake. 

"  When  the  enemy  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  position,  and  of 
his  momentary  hesitation,  they  sent  up  an  unearthly  yell  of 
triumph.  It  was  for  an  instant  only,  that  he  stood  gazing  over 
the  precipice,  and  as  the  voices  of  his  foes  died  away,  a  smile 
crossed  his  lips,  as  if  in  pleasure  at  some  odd  fancy  of  his 
brain. 

" '  I'll  fix  the  varmints,  after  all !'  he  muttered,  and  coolly 
reversing  his  snow  shoes  in  such  wise  as  to  lead  to  the  infer 
ence  that  he  had  slid  down  the  precipice,  he  slid,  instead, 
quietly  off  in  another  direction. 

"When  the  Indians  reached  the  rock,  they  looked  in  blank 
amazement,  at  finding  it  unoccupied,  and  their  wonder  rose  to 
admiration  and  awe,  when  they  became  conscious  of  the  tre 
mendous  feat  by  which  their  victim  had  escaped ;  and  never 
afterwards  did  they  look  upon  his  face,  or  hear  his  name,  with 
out  a  feeling  of  reverence  and  fear,  as  of  one  under  the  especial 
protection  of  the  Great  Spirit. 

"And  from  that  day  to  this,"  said  Mr.  Asphaltum,  ending 
his  narrative,  "  that  famous  precipice  has  been  known  as 
Kogers's  Slide!" 

"  And  a  fitting  monument  it  is,"  added  the  chairman,  "  to 
the  memory  of  a  gallant  man." 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Brownoker,  "  I  will,  if  you  please,  and 
by  way  of  varying  the  time,  give  you  a  later,  and  lighter 


222  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

reminiscence  of  Lake  George.  It  is  not  quite  so  adventurous, 
or  so  eventful,  as  Asphaltum's,  being  all  about  a  lady's  glove, 
instead  of  a  warrier's  hatchet — significant,  you  perceive,  of 
the  present  peaceful  character  of  the  region,  in  contrast  with 
its  olden  days  of  turmoil  and  strife." 

"Our  bruised  arms  hung  up  for  monuments, 
Our  stern  alarums  changed  to  merry  meetings, 
Our  dreadful  marches  to  delightful  measures." 

"  Exactly,  my  dear  Scumble,"  continued  Mr.  Brownoker, 
after  a  moment's  halt,  while  he  nodded  to  the  worthy  Pro 
fessor,  as  he  thus  relieved  his  mind.  "  We  are  now  in  the 
drawing-rooms  of  Horicon,  instead  of  its  battle-fields.  My 
story,  as  I  was  saying,  is  all  about  a  glove.  Gloves,  you 
know,  are  among  the  most  romantic  and  suggestive  thoughts 
in  the  world.  How  the  young  heart  beats  at  the  sight  of  a 
dainty  glove,  upon  a  fair  girl's  gentle " 

"  Oh !  that  I  were  a  glove  upon  that  hand, 
That  I  might  touch  that  cheek" — 

"  Don't  interrupt  me,  Scumble,  with  your  pitiful  verses — 
fair  girl's  gentle  hand.  There  is  the  hawking  glove,  with  its 
thousand  delightful  memories  of  the  merry  age  of  falconry; 
and,  now  we  live  over  again  the  wondrous  days  of  chivalry, 
as  we  pick  up  the  gauntlet  of  the  fearless  knight.  Think  of 
those  good  old  times,  when  a  poor  devil  might  legitimately 
win  a  sweet  kiss,  and  a  pair  of  gloves  into  the  bargain,  from 
his  sleeping  lady-love ;  when  gloves  had  the  magic  gift  of  in 
ducing  fairy  dreams ;  when  the  poetical  ceremony  was  in  vogue, 
of  blessing  the  glove  at  the  crowning  of  the  French  monarchs; 
and,  when  England's  kings,  on  the  same  occasions,  with  the 
casting  of  a  glove,  gallantly  challenged  all  the  world  to  dis- 


DIAMOND  ISLE;   OR,  THE  STRAY  GLOVE.  223 

pute  their  right  to  their  thrones !  From  the  cherothecaa  and 
manicae  of  the  Eomans,  down  to  the  present  hour,  gloves,  like 
modern  sentimentalists,  have  had  a  history!  Even  yet,  the 
romance  lingers.  Gloves  are  still  the  most  ceremonious  and 
poetic  part  of  our  attire ;  still,  as  of  old,  favourite  gifts  at  the 
bridal,  and  at  the  grave.  Gloves " 

"We  admit  all  that,"  interrupted  Mr.  Blueblack.  "But 
to  leave  gloves  in  the  abstract,  and  to  come  at  once  to  the 
individual,  and  particular  glove  of  your  story " 

"  Ah,  yes !     My  story  of 


aie; 


"  Some  summers  ago  I  had  been  long  lost  to  the  sight,  if 
not  to  the  '  memory  dear,'  of  my  friends,  in  the  beautiful  soli 
tudes  of  Horicon.  I  had  mused  away  whole  months,  far  re 
moved  from  the  great  world,  in  my  quiet  studio  at  the  little 
inn  at  Bolton,  now  that  fashionable  resort,  the  Mohican  House. 
And  a  favourite  haunt  it  well  deserves  to  be  —  for  it  is  the 
centre  of  the  most  picturesque  portion  of  the  lake  ;  command 
ing  a  hundred  happy  views  of  the  Tongue,  the  Narrows,  the 
North-west  bay,  the  islands,  and  Shelving  Rock  ;  and,  from 
the  neighbouring  elevations,  overlooking  the  whole  charming 
panorama  of  land  and  water. 

"  I  had  had  a  glorious  time  there,  '  all  by  myself  ;  but 
the  sweetest  sweets  grow  disagreeable  in  excess  ;  and  after  a 
while,  one  might  weary  even  of  the  sun  and  shade  of  Eden 
itself,  you  know.  So  I  thought,  as  I  was  one  day  lounging 
homeward,  with  my  sketch-box  on  my  back  ;  and  I  suddenly 
resolved  to  take  a  peep  at  a  more  busy  world  than  that  in 
which  I  had  so  long  lived.  To  this  end,  I  determined  to  mi- 


224  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMEEICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

grate,  for  a  season,  to  that  fashionable  resort  at  Caldwell,  the 
Lake  House,  where  I  could  again  have  use  for  my  cravat,  and 
once  more  conscientiously  venture  upon  the  extravagance  of 
blacking  my  boots. 

"  On  regaining  my  den  at  the  Bolton  landing,  a  carriage 
was  just  rolling  off  towards  the  very  place  of  my  desires ;  and 
a  hurried  glimpse  which  I  caught  of  a  beauteous  face  protruded 
for  a  moment  from  its  window,  clinched  my  purpose  to  gather 
up  my  duds  and  be  off.  My  plans  were  by  no  means  changed, 
upon  learning,  as  I  entered  my  studio,  that  the  fair  unknown 
had  in  my  absence,  and  by  permission  of  the  hostess,  amused 
herself  with  my  portfolios.  When  a  further  examination  re 
vealed  to  me  a  perfumed  glove,  and  that  glove  of  the  most 
petite  and  most  faultless  contour,  still  warm  from  the  fair  hand 
which  had,  designedly  or  not,  left  it  among  my  treasures,  I 
could  no  longer  brook  the  briefest  delay  in  the  hour  of  my 
departure,  as  I  instantly  prepared  for  my  visit  to  the  Lake 
House." 

At  this  point,  Mr.  Brownoker  begged  his  hearers  to  con 
sider  the  first  chapter  finished,  and  to  'fortify'  themselves 
before  the  commencement  of  the  second. 


"  On  second  thought,"  he  resumed,  "  after  gazing  again 
upon  the  bald  peak  of  Black  Mountain,  upon  the  richly 
wooded  ridges  of  the  Tongue,  the  palisades  of  Shelving  Eock, 
and  the  placid  reach  of  islanded  water,  which  the  window  of 
my  little  studio  revealed,  I  resolved  to  make  only  a  brief 
visit,  still  retaining  my  cherished  sanctum  here,  as  my  head 
quarters.  The  remembrance  of  the  true  delights  I  had  long 
enjoyed,  in  communion  with  ever-constant  and  unsophisticated 
Nature,  who,  as  some  gentle-minded  youth  has  sweetly  ob 
served,  '  never  did  betray  the  heart  that  loves  her,'  proved 


DIAMOND  ISLE;   OR,  THE  STRAY  GLOVE.  225 

much   stronger   than   the   seductions   of   fashion's   soulless  joys ! 

"  Instead  of  following  the  road  which  skirts  the  margin  of 
the  lake,  I  thought  I  would  jump  into  my  boat  and  take 
another  pull  among  my  favourite  islands.  A  charming  day 
was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  the  silvery  disc  of  the  moon  had 
already  taken  its  place  high  in  heaven,  giving  sweet  promise 
of  a  lovely  night.  Tossing  my  portfolio  and  my  travelling- 
sack — furnished  only  with  some  spotless  linen,  and  a  resplen 
dent  pair  of  patent  leathers — into  the  skiff,  my  oars  were  soon 
moving  to  the  music  of  my  thoughts,  as  I  skimmed  the 
translucent  waters. 

"  The  physical  exertion  of  rowing,  the  beauty  of  the  even 
ing,  radiant  in  the  intoxicating  atmospheres  and  hues  of  a 
fading  summer  sun,  the  ever-changing  and  ever-charming  land 
scape,  familiar,  yet  always  fresh  to  my  eye  and  heart;  the 
crowd  of  gay  and  mad  fancies  which  filled  my  busy  brain, 
all  conspired  to  induce  a  feeling  of  hope  and  gladness,  un 
wonted  even  to  my  always  buoyant  and  happy  humour. 
Simply  to  live,  would  have  been,  at  this  moment,  a  sufficient 
delight;  but  my  soul  leaped  within  me,  as  it  answered  to  the 
varied  voices  of  the  myriad  unseen  spirits  which  filled  all  the 
sky,  and  earth,  and  water  around  me.  I  moralized  pleasantly 
with  the  setting  sun,  the  brightening  moon,  and  the  passing 
clouds,  and  then  gossiped  with  that  mad-cap  flatterer,  Echo,  in 
her  hidden  home  among  the  hills,  asking  her  a  thousand 
absurd  questions,  to  which  she  made  me  a  thousand  obliging 
replies.  I  cannot  repeat  all  the  nice  confidences,  and  all  the 
bright  hopes  she  gave  me  touching  the  fair  owner  of  my  pre 
cious  glove.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  they  were  enough  to  keep 
my  thoughts  active  and  happy — so  active  and  happy,  indeed, 
that  the  hours  fled  unperceived,  and,  to  my  surprise,  I  sud 
denly  found  myself  in  the  shadow  of  Diamond  Isle,  and  not 

far  from  my  place  of  destination. 
15 


226  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

"  Diamond  Isle  was  one  of  my  favourite  haunts,  and  as  I 
approached,  I  turned  the  prow  of  my  skiff,  to  make  it  a  pass 
ing  call.  Nearing  the  shore,  I  was  not  a  little  surprised  to 
find  a  boat  drawn  up  on  the  beach.  No  time,  however,  was 
left  for  speculation  on  this  incident,-  as  more  startling  surprises 
absorbed  my  attention.  A  cry  of  terror  reached  my  ear,  and 
in  an  instant  afterwards,  I  beheld,  rapidly  hastening  towards 
the  shore,  a  sprite-like  figure,  clad  in  mystic  white.  I  pushed 
in  with  all  speed,  and  springing  from  my  boat,  caught  the 
frightened  girl  in  my  arms,  just  as  she  was  sinking  to  the 
earth,  exhausted  and  insensible. 

"  The  moonbeams,  which  had  been  hitherto  obscured  by 
the  clouds,  now  shone  out  full  upon  us ;  and  I  recognized  the 
features  of  the  fair  face  which  I  had  seen  at  the  carriage-win 
dow,  on  returning  to  my  inn  that  afternoon.  When  she  soon 
after  opened  her  eyes  with  returning  consciousness,  her  alarm 
took  another  form,  at  finding  a  stranger  by  her  side,  but  a  few 
words  of  explanation  and  introduction,  aided  by  a  mention  of 
the  visit  she  had  paid  to  my  sanctum  during  the  day,  sufficed 
to  quiet  her  new  fears,  and  to  enable  her  to  relate  the  cause  of 
her  first  terror ;  which  turned  out  to  be  nothing  more  serious 
than  the  surprise  of  a  sudden  encounter  with  a  rattle-snake. 

"'I  have  often  met  the  creatures,'  she  said,  as  a  smile  rose 
to  my  lips,  '  without  any  sense  of  fear  or  averson,  and  I  cannot 
imagine  what  may  have  possessed  me  to  act  so  ridiculously  at 
this  time.' 

"In  reply  to  my  wonder  at  finding  her  thus  alone  in  such 
an  odd  place,  and  at  this  strange  hour,  she  told  me  that  in 
obedience  to  an  impulse,  which  often  seized  her,  to  commune 
with  Nature  in  her  solitary  haunts,  she  had  stolen  away  from 
the  circle  of  merry-makers  in-doors,  and,  as  her  eye  wandered 
over  the  beauties  of  the  placid  waters  and  the  sleeping  islands, 
she  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  enter  her  skiff,  and  had, 


DIAMOND   ISLE  ;    OR,   THE   STRAF   GLOVE.  227 

unthinkingly,  extended  her  ramble  far  beyond  her  first  pur 
pose. 

"  '  Though,'  she  continued,  '  I  frequently  venture  on  bolder, 
and  more  unreasonable  exploits,  than  a  lonely  visit,  by  moon 
light,  to  Diamond  Isle.  In  my  short  life,  I  have  passed  through 
so  many  scenes  of  danger,  that  all  sorts  of  adventure  have 
now,  to  my  fancy,  a  species  of  fascination,  like  that  which 
impels  one  to  gaze  at  the  serpent,  or  to  dash  headlong  from 
the  brow  of  a  precipice.' 

"  '  Certainly  a  strange  love,'  I  answered,  '  for  a  young  and 
dainty  girl !  Perhaps  you  will  tell  me  of  some  of  the  hair 
breadth  'scapes  of  which  you  speak.' 

"  '  Willingly,'  she  said,  seating  herself  in  the  stern  of  my 
boat,  and  adjusting  the  rudder,  while  I  threw  out  my  oars, 
and  pushed  once  more  for  the  Lake  House — pulling  her  own, 
now  empty,  skiff  in  our  wake — '  willingly,  but  as  our  time 
will  not  suffice  for  more  than  one  recital,  it  shall  be  of  an 
incident  which  happened  to  me  in  this  very  region,  during  a 
visit  a  few  years  since.  One  bright  morning,  I  joined  a  merry 
party  in  an  excursion  to  the  forest-glens  of  the  Tongue  Moun 
tain.  In  the  course  of  the  day,  we  managed,  in  the  following 
of  our  several  humours,  to  get  widely  separated,  some  pursuing 
one  object,  and  some  another.  My  own  cavalier,  a  devoted 
lover  of  the  chase,  catching  a  glimpse  of  a  passing  deer,  forgot 
his  gallantry,  and  leaving  me  alone,  started  off  in  pursuit. 
Wearied  by  his  protracted  absence,  and  by  the  many  exercises 
and  excitements  of  the  day,  I  established  myself,  lazily,  under 
the  arms  of  a  brave  old  hemlock,  and  soon  fell  asleep.  When 
I  opened  my  eyes,  after  a  refreshing  nap,  a  savage  creature, 
which  I  afterwards  learned  was  a  panther,  glared  ferociously 
upon  me  from  a  bough  of  the  very  tree  under  which  I  was 
lying.' 

"  Here  I  interrupted  the  brave  girl,  with  a  smiling  remark, 


228  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

touching  the  appellation  of  'painter,'  by  which  these  animals 
were  vulgarly  known. 

"  Glancing  with  a  look  of  arch  understanding  and  flattering 
confidence  from  my  portfolio,  which  lay  in  her  lap,  to  myself, 
she  resumed,  '  my  first  impulse  was  to  shriek  for  aid,  but  I 
immediately  remembered  to  have  heard  that  the  wild  beast 
never  attacks  its  prey  while  sleeping,  and  I  reclosed  my  eyes, 
scarcely  daring  to  respire,  so  intense  was  my  fright.  I  remained 
thus,  motionless,  breathless,  and  terror-stricken,  for  an  hour — 
it  seemed  to  me  a  year — without  venturing  to  look  up,  ex 
cepting  only  once,  and  then  I  again  encountered  the  frightful 
stare  of  the  panther.  At  length,  to  my  inexpressible  delight, 
I  heard  the  voice  of  my  truant  companion,  calling  my  name, 
as  he  came  nearer  and  nearer.  But  I  felt  it  impossible  to 
answer,  and  a  new  horror  seized  upon  me  when  I  thought  of 
the  risk  to  which  he  was  himself  exposed.  My  agony  was  too 
much,  and  I  was  upon  the  point  of  warning  him  of  his  danger, 
at  the  sacrifice,  as  I  felt,  of  my  own  life,  when  the  report  of 
a  gun  startled  me,  and  a  heavy  object  seemed  to  fall  at  my 
feet,  while  the  woods  echoed  with  a  shriek  which  completely 
upset  my  frightened  senses. 

"  '  When  my  consciousness  returned,  it  needed  but  a  glance 
to  explain  the  happy  circumstances  of  my  escape  from  the 
terrible  death,  which,  but  a  moment  before,  had  seemed  inevita 
ble.  My  companion  at  my  side,  and  the  slain  panther  at  my 
feet,  told  their  own  story,  as  well  as  he  himself  afterwards 
related  it:  how,  failing  in  his  chase  for  the  deer,  he  had  has 
tened  back,  and  seeing  me  motionless  upon  the  ground,  and 
the  forest  monster  watching  me  from  above,  he  had  thought 
me  slain,  and  with  the  quick,  unerring  aim  of  desperate  ven 
geance,  had  brought  him  to  the  earth.  Never  shall  I  forget 
that  terrible  day !'  said  the  lady,  as  she  finished  this  very 
agreeable  little  narrative. 


DIAMOND   ISLE  ;    OR,    THE   STRAY   GLOVE.  229 

"  By  this  time  we  were  approaching  the  hotel,  and  my 
heroine  intimating  a  wish  to  re-enter  unobserved,  flitted  from 
my  boat  and  my  sight,  leaving  me  to  make  my  debut  in  the 
usual  mundane  manner. 

"  After  the  necessary  repairs  in  the  matter  of  toilet  and  table, 
I  ventured  to  peep  into  the  drawing  rooms,  where,  among  a 
large  and  gay  assemblage,  I  greeted  more  than  one  old  friend 
or  city  acquaintance.  But,  as  I  was  not  exactly  in  'the  vein  for 
a  sly  flirtation  by  the  light  of  a  chandelier,  and  more  especially, 
perhaps,  as  my  unknown  heroine  did  not  make  her  reappear 
ance,  I  again  started  out  in  the  moonlight,  to  talk  with  my 
own  quickly  beating  heart. 

"So  many  thick  coming  hopes  and  fears  agitated  me,  that 
the  whole  night  fled  in  wakefulness;  and,  wearied  with  vain 
efforts  to  sleep,  the  early  morning  sun  found  me  again  a  restless 
wanderer  on  the  hill-sides. 

"  Now  thought  I,  as  I  returned  to  breakfast,  I  shall  again 
see  those  fatal  eyes  which  have  so  disturbed  my  wonted  careless 
and  contented  thoughts.  But  the  eyes  came  not,  and  mine 
host's  famous  trout  went  away  untouched.  The  dinner  now 
passed,  and  my  hopes  with  it.  Again  the  ball  room  was  filled 
with  sparkling  eyes,  and  lovely  forms  and  faces — so  they  told 
me — for  I  could  see  nothing,  the  light  of  my  soul  being  still 
absent.  My  case  was  growing  desperate,  and  I  even  caught 
myself  thinking,  as  I  looked  abstractedly  into  the  clear. waters 
of  the  lake,  how  sweet  it  would  be,  to  lie  quietly  within  their 
peaceful  lethean  embrace. 

"Then  came  cruel  thoughts,  that  my  beauteous  Dian  had 
left  all  memory  of  me  in  my  boat,  as  she  stepped  out;  and 
again  a  fear  seized  me  that  she  might  be  ill,  while  I  was  making 
no  kind  inquiry,  and  proffering  no  tender  sympathy — and  with 
these  speculations  it  occurred  to  me,  for  the  first  time,  to  ques 
tion  my  host. 


230  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

"Great  was  my  vexation  to  learn,  only,  that  she  had 
left  the  hotel,  and  gone  in  the  steamer  down  the  lake  while  I 
was  strolling  disconsolately  through  the  woods  in  the  morning — 
at  least,  so  my  landlord  supposed,  for  my  description  of  the 
lady  did  not  quite  enable  him  to  identify  her.  A  dozen  such 
ladies  he  said — as  if  the  world  was  blessed  with  more  than  one 
— had  gone  off  that  day. 

"  '  And  did  she  leave  me  no  message  ?'  I  asked,  more  in  sor 
row  than  in  anger. 

"  '  Who  ?'  said  the  Commodore,  looking  at  me,  with  a  pro- 
vokingly  suspicious  smile. 

"  '  Ah !  how  could  she  ?'  I  muttered  to  myself,  '  not  know 
ing  my  name !  What  a  deuced  fool  I  am  to  be  sure  !' 

" '  My  dear  Brownoker,'  said  the  Commodore,  '  I  do  not 
wish  to  steal  your  confidence,  but  permit  me,  as  a  friend,  to 
ask  whether  you  are  drunk,  or  in  love.' 

"  '  In  love !'  I  ejaculated,  now,  for  the  first  time,  fully 
realizing  the  nature  of  my  complaint,  and  remembering  all  the 
malicious  looks  and  hints  thrown  at  me,  throughout  the  day,  by 
my  many  friends.  In  love !  no ;  but  you,  must  be  mad.' 

'"Ha!  ha!  ha!'  bellowed  the  Commodore  as  I  rushed  away. 
'  That's  a  good  joke !  We  must  inquire  into  this  mystery.' 

"  Without  awaiting  the  result  of  my  host's  inquiry,  I  stepped 
into  the  office,  settled  my  bill,  jumped  again  into  my  boat,  re- 
passed  Diamond  Isle  with  a  sigh,  and  never  ceased  tugging  at 
the  oar,  until  I  had  regained  my  quarters  at  Bolton. 


"  IT  was  near  midnight  as  I  re-entered  the  inn,  and  the  in 
mates  had  retired,  excepting  only  a  few  old  veterans  who  were 
discussing  a  protracted  tipple.  They  gave  me  a  greeting,  but 
were  much  surprised  at  my  speedy  return,  particularly  those 


THE   FAIR  INCOGNITA.  231 

who  were  aware  of  my  desire  to  improve  my  acquaintance  with 
my  unknown  visitor. 

"  In  answer  to  the  general  demands  for  the  incidents  of  my 
tour,  I  related  the  history  of  my  encounter  with  the  incognita, 
in  the  white-robed  lady  of  Diamond  Isle. 

"  'I  never,'  said  one  old  toper,  'suffer  any  of  my  gals  to  stir 
about  in  that  way.  Out  of  fourteen,  I  never  had  one  who — ' 

"  Interrupting  my  hearer's  domestic  memoirs,  I  narrated  the 
adventures  of  the  panther,  in  which  every  one  suddenly  took 
unusual  interest,  exchanging,  as  I  proceeded,  very  significant 
and  mysterious  looks. 

"  '  Very  remarkable,'  muttered  the  father  of  a  family  intro 
duced  a  few  sentences  back ;  '  very  remarkable !  When  the 
carriage  passed  yesterday,  I  thought  I  had  seen  her  before, 
somewhere  or  other ;  and  it  must  have  been  here,  for  I  have 
never  been  anywhere  else.' 

"  I  was  about  to  inquire  what  they  knew  of  her,  and  her 
history,  when  my  landlord  added  : 

"'I  thought,  too,  I  'd  seen  the  gal  before ;  but  I  disremem- 
ber'd  who  she  was.  That  affair  of  the  panther  made  a  great 
stir  when  it  happen'd,  and  we  have  always  kind  o'  wanted  to 
know  what  became  of  the  lady,  and  if  she  married.' 

"  '  Married !'  I  exclaimed ;   '  Oh,  no  ;  not  she  !' 

'"Why,  it  was  said,'  continued  mine  host,  'that  she  after 
wards  became  the  wife  of  the  gentleman  who  saved  her  life.' 

"  This  very  reasonable  idea  which  had  never  before  occurred 
to  my  blinded  perceptions,  completely  put  to  flight  all  my 
dawning  hopes,  and  I  hastened  to  avoid  any  further  discus 
sion  of  the  subject  by  pleading  fatigue,  and  seeking  my  too 
long  neglected  pillow. 

"The  unpleasant  suspicions,  which  I  soon  learned  had 
been  aroused  in  the  minds  of  the  good  people  of  Bolton,  no 
less  than  among  my  friends  at  the  Lake  House,  by  my  late 


232  THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

aberations  of  mind,  induced  me  to  break  up  my  camp,  and 
continue  my  further  explorations  of  the  Lake. 

"  I  came  to  this  determination  the  more  promptly,  that  I 
had  found,  on  my  return,  an  invitation  to  a  ball,  a  few  evenings 
hence,  at  Gurfield's,  near  Sabbath  Day  Point,  the  very  place 
which  I  next  proposed  to  visit.  The  card  came  through  a 
valued  friend  of  other  days,  whom  I  had  lost  sight  of  for 
several  years,  but  who  had  in  some  way  kept  better  track  of  me. 

"  Bidding  a  final  adieu  to  my  friends  at  Bolton,  I  proceeded 
leisurely,  on  foot,  over  the  mountains  to  Sabbath  Day  Point, 
arriving  at  the  hotel,  on  the  very  evening  of  the  promised 
merry-making. 

"  It  was  not  long  before  I  greeted  my  old  friend,  and  re 
counted  with  him  the  adventures  of  the  long  years,  that  had 
passed  since  we  had  laughed  together. 

"  '  And  so,  Harry,'  I  exclaimed,  quite  forgetful  of  my  late 
meditated  recusancy,  'you  have,  like  myself,  the  happy  fortune 
to  escape  all  Cupid's  snares,  and  are  still  a  joyous,  hearty 
bachelor!  Aye,  my  boy?' 

"'Bachelor!  devil  a  bit  of  it,  my  old  friend!  I've  re 
canted.  I  have  abjured  all  those  infamous  heresies,  and  have 
become  the  luckiest  Benedict  alive !' 

"'Gracious  heavens!'  I  ejaculated,  with  a  long-drawn  sigh 
of  intense  commiseration.  '  Tell  me,  Harry,  how  it  all  hap 
pened,  and  if  the  earnest  sympathies  of  a  true  friend  will ' 

"  '  Sympathies  !  ha,  ha  !  That's  a  capital  joke — capital ; 
but  I  see,  poor,  deluded  sinner,  that  you  are  yet  in  the  gall 
of  bitterness,  and  in  the  bonds  of  iniquity !  Your  rambles 
about  Horicon  have  not  been  so  fruitful  as  have  mine.  All 
my  good  fortune  has  been  fished  from  these  waters,  or  quarried 
in  the  hills.  When  I  had  the  happiness  to  bring  down  that 
blessed  panther,  and  save  my  Ella's  life,  I  struck "  a  vein 
which ' 


THE   ECLAIRCISSEMENT.  233 

"  '  Oli,  ye  gods !'  I  exclaimed,  as  the  fatal  truth  burst  upon 
my  mind.  '  Panther !  Ella !  and  were  you,  Harry,  the  hero 
of  that  memorable  incident ;  and  is  she — your  wife  ?' 

"  '  To  be  sure !  She  is'nt  any  thing  else !  Come,  let  us  go 
and  join  the  ladies,  and  you  shall  become  better  acquainted 
with  Ella ;  for  you  must  know  that  she  has  already  met  you, 
and  has  taken  a  great  fancy  to  you.  You  remember  the  lady 
who  visited  your  studio  at  Bolton,  and  whom  you  encountered 
so  romantically,  the  same  night,  on  Diamond  Isle?' 

"  '  The  fact  is,  Harry,'  I  replied,  in  a  faint,  sad  voice ;  '  the 
fact  is  I  am  terribly  fatigued  by  my  walk  to-day,  and  only 
came  over  to  see  you  for  a  moment,  and  make  my  apologies 
for  the  necessity  under  which  I  find  myself,  of  hastening  on  to 
Ticonderoga,  and  thence  to  the  city.' 

"  '  Nonsense !  nonsense !     Ella  would  never  forgive  you  !' 

"  '  Make  my  compliments  to  her,'  I  cried,  tearing  myself 
away,  and  flying  back  to  the  domicil  in  which  I  had  taken  up 
my  abode ;  '  I  shall  meet  you  soon  in  town ;  you  know  my 
address — au  revoir.1 

11  Before  I  slept  that  night,  I  addressed  my  treasured  glove, 

under  an  envelope,  to  'Mrs.  Henry  B ,'  at  Gurfield's 

Hotel,  and,  at  daybreak,  was  en  route  for  home !" 


When  our  friends  had  sufficiently  complimented  Mr.  Brown- 
oker  upon  his  affecting  story,  we  were  malicious  enough  to 
hint,  that  his  adventure  seemed  to  be  grounded  upon  incidents 
we  had  ourself  once  told ;  to  which  accusation  he  slyly  pleaded 
guilty,  but  justified,  first  upon  the  ground  of  eminent  and  multi 
plied  precedent.  "  Shakspeare,  himself,  you  remember,  was 
free  enough  in  borrowing  suggestions  from  others ;  and  sec 
ondly,"  he  continued,  "  the  tale  seemed  to  me  deserving  of  a 
more  permanent  record  than  you  had  already  given  it,  and  that 


234  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

there  could  not  be  such  better  record  than  in  your  own  pages." 
In  consideration  of  -Mr.  Brownoker's  last  flattering  excuse, 
we  forgave  him  for  "stealing  our  thunder,"  and  promised  to 
enter  the  story  on  our  minutes.  And  with  this  understanding 
the  meeting  adjourned. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

"THE  Gothamite,"  said  Mr.  Deepredde,  "who  for  the  first 
time  runs  up  from  the  thronged  walks  of  Broadway,  to  the 
almost  unbroken  wilderness  of  northern  New  York,  -is  aston 
ished  that  Nature  should  yet  remain  in  such  primitive  solitude 
and  grandeur,  so  near  the  crowded  marts  of  commerce  and 
the  ceaseless  hum  of  human  life  and  enterprise.  The  moun 
tain  steeps  seem  strange  to  his  Euss-pavement  vision,  and  the 
bounding  deer,  or  the  screaming  panther  are  droll,  fellow- 
passengers  for  him  to  jostle." 

"How  is  it,"  inquired  Mr.  Megilp,  "that  so  vast  a  territory 
as  the  wilderness  stretching  from  Champlain,  westward  along 
all  the  shore  of  Ontario,  should  still  remain  unoccupied  ?" 

"  Chiefly,"  returned  Mr.  Deepredde,  "  from  the  fact  that 
its  rude  mountainous  character  makes  it  unfit  for  very  profit 
able  agricultural  uses.  Its  rich  mineral  stores,  however,  have 
been  turned  to  good  account ;  especially  the  fine  iron  ore  of 
that  quarter  distinctively  known  as  the  Adirondack.  Here,  very 
extensive  works  have  been  for  a  long  time  in  successful  opera 
tion." 

"  Portions    of   these    lands,"   added   Mr.   Brownoker.    "  have 


236        THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

been  presented  at  different  times  as  free  gifts,  to  the  negroes, 
by  the  philanthropist  Gerritt  Smith.  The  benefactions,  how 
ever,  have  in  most  cases  been  unappreciated,  or,  at  least, 
unimproved.  Be  it  through  the  natural  laziness  of  the  African, 
or  from  the  incapacity  of  the  situation  and  soil,  none  of  the 
settlers  have  long  held  their  possessions.  One  of  these  in 
domitable  fellows,  it  is  said,  pronounced  Mr.  Smith's  land  so 
poor,  '  dat  de  grass-hopper  had  to  go  down  on  he  knees  to 
smell  de  clover!'  Cuffee,  however,  is  every  where,  and  by 
nature  so  indolent,  so  wanting  in  enterprise,  and  even  in 
desire,  that  it  is  a  question  whether  he  would  be  able  to  raise 
a  mullen  in  Paradise." 

"I  do  not  know  though,"  said  Mr.  Asphaltum,  "  that  we 
should  lament  the  loneliness  of  the  region.  It  is  at  present  a 
noble  field  for  the  health-giving  and  soul-cheering  recreations 
of  the  angle  and  the  chase ;  and  in  the  progress  of  time,  the 
shores  of  its  countless  beautiful  lakes  will  become  the  most 
delightful  of  all  summer  resorts  for  our  invalid  and  pleasure- 
seeking  population." 

"  For  some  time  to  come,"  said  Mr.  Blueblack,  "  the  Adiron 
dack  region  must  be  left  to  the  Nimrods ;  at  least,  until  the 
floods  of  commerce  shall  sweep  through  the  frowning  moun 
tain  gorges,  and  the  means  of  locomotion  be  greatly  increased. 
Very  few  ladies  will  venture  there  at  present.  The  paths  are 
too  rude  and  too  narrow  for  the  passage  of  the  trailing  robes 
and  flowing  skirts  of  fashion.  "What  can  our  drawing-room 
belles  do  in  a  country  which  can  be  traversed  only  on  foot,  or 
in  boats,  which  must  every  now  and  then  be  borne  across  the 
portages  that  continually  break  the  chain  of  lakes ;  and  which 
must  always  confine  their  wardrobes  to  the  narrow  limits  of  a 
carpet-bag  or  a  knapsack ;  and  where,  too,  the  paths,  when 
such,  blessings  are  to  be  found  at  all,  are  over  jagged  rocks, 
lost  in  the  ddbris  of  the  woods,  or  leading  one  often  through 


THE  ADIRONDACK.  237 

the  treacherous  bogs  of  a  beaver  meadow?  And  yet  some 
brave  women  I  have  met  here,  roughing  it  with  the  stoutest, 
under  canvass  tent,  and  over  rocky  ways,  and  without  any 
abatement  of  lady-like  grace  and  elegance.  One  of  these 
true  women  was  once  rowing  with  her  husband  down  the 
merry  current  of  the  Saranac,  when  they  suddenly  encountered 
a  monstrous  bear ;  to  proceed  was  scarcely  possible,  since  the 
animal  barred  the  passage,  while  to  return  was  quite  as  im 
practicable,  for  some  rapids  in  the  way,  which  they  had  just 
gallantly  descended,  were  not  to  be  re-traversed  so  -quickly  and 
easily.  As  monsieur  was  nervously  manceuvering  to  dodge 
the  beast,  madame  coolly  seized  the  gun  and  despatching  a 
ball  at  his  ugly  head,  brought  him  down  upon  them  with  the 
added  fury  of  hunger  and  passion.  A  terrible  struggle  fol 
lowed,  in  which  the  lady  laid  about  her  bravely  with  the  stock 
of  her  musket,  and  monsieur  greatly  damaged  his  oars.  Ex 
hausted  at  length  by  the  bleeding  from  the  wound  made  by 
madame's  shot,  and  the  persistent  battery  which  followed,  the 
animal  fell  heavily  against  the  boat,  cooling  the  heated  brows 
of  his  captors  in  the  startled  waters." 

"Blueblack's  anecdote  reminds  me,"  said  Mr.  Megilp,  "of 
an  adventurous  ramble  I  once  made  through  the  Great  Indian 
Pass.  While  crossing  one  of  the  many  doublings  of  the 
Ausalle,  which  rises  hereabouts,  I  was  startled  on  seeing, 
through  the  thick  intervening  bushes,  the  terrible  eyes  of  a 
wild-cat,  fixed  glaringly  upon  me.  In  my  alarm — for  I  must 
confess  I  was,  at  first,  a  little  frightened — I  was  about  to 
raise  my  gun,  but  as  the  creature  seemed  to  move,  I  desisted, 
fearing  to  exasperate  it.  For  a  long,  long  time — God  knows 
how  long — I  stood  tremblingly  gazing  at  the  fixed  eyes  of  the 
monster,  while  it  still  looked  as  unmovingly  at  me.  My  heart 
all  the  while  was  in  my  mouth.  As  I  thus  watched,  hour 
after  hour  dragging  slowly  by,  I  thought  my  time  was  come, 


238  THE   ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

and  said  my  prayers  with  unction.  All  my  sins  rose  up  before 
me.  I  thought  of  all  the  evil  paths  into  which  my  friends  here 
had  led  me,  and  more  particularly  did  I  repent  me  of  certain 
unpardonable  peccadilloes  into  which  I  had  been  tempted  by 
Brownoker.  Fatigue  and  hunger  came  upon  me,  the  day 
waned,  and  darkness — the  black  darkness  of  the  forest — ap 
proached.  I  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  was  fairly  sinking 
with  exhaustion,  when  the  animal  again  moved  as  if  to  spring, 
and  lifting  my  piece,  I  blazed  away  in  desperation,  and  the  next 
minute  he  fell  at  my  feet.  As  soon  as  I  dared,  I  proceeded  to 
examine  my  conquered  foe,  and  to  my  astonishment,  large  as 
he  had  seemed  to  me,  glaring  down  from  his  perch,  I  found 
him  to  measure,  from  the  head  to  the  tip  of  the  tail,  no  less 
than  fifteen " 

"  Whew  I"  cried  Brownoker,  whose  eyes  had  been  dancing 
with  merriment,  during  this  exciting  recital,  "  Stop  where  you 
are,  Megilp,  lest  when  your  time  does  come,  it  be  a '  time,  indeed.' 
Gentlemen,  I  heard  the  whole  of  this  tremendous  adventure 
from  the  lips  of  an  old  hunter  in  the  Adirondacks,  who  in 
formed  me,  in  confidence,  that  the  terrible  panther  which  Me 
gilp  brought  down  after  a  whole  day's  parley  was,  simply,  a 
mass  of  swinging  debris:  bark,  moss,  and  fungi,  into  which 
some  scraps  of  glittering  mica,  which  he  mistook  for  savage 
eyes,  had  been  blown  by  the  wind." 

"  But  my  dear  Brownoker,  you  see — " 

"  No  use,  my  good  fellow  1  Confess,  and  throw  yourself 
upon  the  mercy  of  the  court !  When  released  from  his  dur 
ance  of  mortal  fear,  our  poor  friend  could  no  longer  find  his 
way  home  in  the  darkness,  and  he  was  compelled  to  listen  all 
night,  cold  and  supperless,  to  the  dainty  serenade  of  the 
wolves !  Don't  say  a  word  Megilp,  or  I  shall  remember  the 
cigars  which  you  picked  up  at  Gilsey's,  when  we  were  once  loun 
ging  down  Broadway,  and  which  you,  meeting  me  some  hours  af- 


HUNTING  AND  FISHING.  239 

terwards,  offered  to  me  as  extraordinary  Havannas,  given  you 
by  your  particular  friend,  Don  Jose  Calderon  de  la  Humbug- 
gios,  just  arrived  from  the  Antilles !" 

Megilp,  solemnly  insisted  upon  the  truth  of  his  story,  and 
the  gross  malice  of  Brownoker,  but  not  successfully  enough 
to  stay  the  general  laugh  at  the  unlooked-for  denouement. 

"  Blueblack  is  right,"  said  Yermeille,  "  in  leaving  our  north 
ern  wilderness,  for  many  years  to  come,'  to  the  uses  of  the 
sportsmen.  And  great,  indeed,  are  its  capabilities  in  this  wise. 
Eowing  through  the  thousand  little  lakes  here,  often  have  we 
pulled  up  to  lunch  on  some  inviting  island  shore,  when  our 
guide  has  suggested  to  us  the  propriety  of  raking  up  material 
for  a  fire,  while  he  should  throw  in  his  line,  and  take  a  few 
trout ;  and  seldom  was  it  that  some  half  dozen  of  the  sparkling 
gentry  were  not  spread  upon  our  primitive  griddle  of  forked 
twigs,  quite  as  soon  as  the  fire  was  ready  to  receive  them.  I  have 
seldom  ventured  out  for  a  stroll  without  crossing  the  path  of  a 
deer.  And  with  good  dogs,  a  successful  morning's  sport  is 
always  to  be  had.  On  Tupper's  Lake,  one  of  the  most  pictur 
esque  of  the  Saranac  group,  a  party  of  hunters  took,  recently, 
no  less  than  twenty-nine  deer  and  one  moose  in  a  period  of 
eight  consecutive  days.  A  veteran  angler  from  old  Scotia,  accus 
tomed  to  fishing  in  the  ancient  reflective  Izaak  Walton  fash 
ion,  went  off  from  this  neighbourhood  in  high  disgust  at  the 
superabundance  of  the  fish.  He  was  too  deeply  penetrated 
with  a  sense  of  the  dignity  and  difficulty  of  his  art,  to  see  it,  like 
French,  Spanish,  Italian,  and  other  once  serious  studies,  '  made 
easy'  at  that  rate. 

"  The  people  here,  support  themselves  by  hunting,  and  by 
the  fees  they  receive  as  guides  to  amateur  Nimrods.  Their 
usual  charge,  where  the  visitor  keeps  such  game  as  may  be 
caught,  is  from  two  to  three  dollars  a  day,  for  boat,  guide,  and 
dogs — the  guide  rowing,  hunting,  cooking,  carrying  the  boat 


240  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

across  the  portages,  and  making  himself  generally  useful  as  man 
of  all  work  You  may  accompany  the  hunters,  simply  to  wit 
ness  the  sport,  or  even  to  assist  therein,  without  price,  they 
finding  their  account  in  the  moderate  charge  they  will  make 
you  for  board  in  their  little  inns  and  cabins.  Accompanied  by 
a  friend,  I  once  made  a  cruise  of  some  weeks  on  the  Saranac 
lakes.  We  furnished  our  own  provisions,  while  the  guide  sup 
plied  boat,  baggage,  tents,  and  utensils,  dogs  and  ammunition, 
and  for  his  manifold  services  received  from  us  two  dollars  per 
day. 

"  These  guides,  who  are  hearty  honest  fellows,  most  often, 
of  strong  individuality  of  character,  like  to  serve  a  clever  and 
intelligent  employer,  but  your  gauche  cockney  excites  their  ire. 
I  heard  many  stories  while  among  them,  of  a  certain  sporting 
person  who  went  into  the  region,  originally,  to  save  souls,  but 
very  soon  found  it  much  more  amusing  to  kill  deer. 

"Uncle  Moore,  as  he  was  familiarly  known  among  his 
mountain  parishioners,  was  a  mighty  and  inexorable  hunter. 
He  went  it  unceasingly,  from  night  to  morn,  from  morn  to 
dewy  eve.  It  was  not  his  unwearying  enthusiasm  which 
offended  the  guides,  but  his  utter  want  of  the  true  genial  spirit 
of  the  chase.  He  had  no  love  or  consideration  whatever  for 
the  poor  victims.  He  would  simply  slaughter  them,  when  he 
could,  by  hecatombs,  and  merely  preserving  the  skins  as  tro 
phies,  leave  them  to  rot  at  leisure.  This  wholesale  and  useless 
destruction  was  forever  exposing  him  to  the  blessings  of  the 
guides.  They  were  always  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  mar  his 
plans  and  destroy  his  sport.  When  his  piece  was  poised,  they 
would  manage  unobserved  to  frighten  away  the  game ;  or  they 
would  mislead  him  into  fields,  as  barren  cf  deer  as  they  were 
toilsome  of  access. 

"  No  opportunity  of  annoying  or  quizzing  old  Uncle  Moore 
was  suffered  to  pass  unimproved.  On-  one  unpropitious  occa- 


UNCLE  MOORE'S  NIGHT  HUNT.  241 

sion  he  must  perforce  go  forth  on  a  night  hunt.  The  sky 
was  threatening,  and  no  sooner  was  the  boat  pushed  off,  than 
a  settled  and  persisting  rain  set  in.  After  a  fruitless  pursuit 
for  some  hours,  during  which  time  they  were  well  soaked,  and 
the  boat  well  lined  with  water,  they  neared  an  island  shore, 
and  the  guide  suggested  the  propriety  of  running  in  and  lying 
by  for  better  weather. 

"  '  0,  no !'  said  the  invincible  dominie.  '  I  guess  we  had 
better  keep  on  !  It's  only  a  shower,  and  we  shall  scare  up 
something  soon!' 

"  The  guide  was  silent,  then,  as  through  another  hour, 
during  which  time  the  storm  had  increased,  and  the  navigation 
was  becoming  as  perilous,  as  it  had  long  been  uncomfortable. 
Uncle  Moore  was  evidently  getting  tired  of  his  bargain,  and 
he  looked  from  the  black  sky  to  the  dim  shore  occasionally, 
as  though  he  knew  which  of  the  two  he  would  prefer,  if  he 
were  asked.  But  the  guide  pulled  on,  and  did  not  ask  him. 
He  saw  Uncle  Moore's  uneasiness,  and  he  maliciously  resolved 
not  to  come  to  his  aid ;  -  on  the  contrary,  he  was  careful  to 
approach,  continually,  within  tempting  distance  of  the  shore, 
and  then  pull  directly  away.  At  last,  the  parson's  valour  was 
exhausted,  and  when  the  boat  again  neared  the  land,  he  re 
marked,  obligingly : — 

"  '  Well,  Bill,  as  you  were  saying,  the  weather  does  look 
rather  bad,  and,  on  second  thought,  I  am  not  certain  that  it 
would  not  be  best  for  us,  as  you  suggest,  to  lie  by  awhile.' 

"  '  Aye !'  said  Bill,  looking  up  distractedly  from  his  mus 
ings.  '  What  did  you  say,  Uncle  Moore  ?' 

" '  I  was  observing,'  reiterated  the  afflicted  dominie,  '  that 
I  think  it  is  possible  you  may  be  in  the  right  about  holding 

"  '  0  dear,  no,  Uncle  Moore,'  said  Bill,  in  a  tone  of  aston 
ishment.    '  We  musn't  think  of  such  a  thing  !     Lie  by  !  nonsense ! 
16 


242  THE  EOMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

Why  you  know  it's  only  a  shower,  and  we  shall  be  sure  to 
scare  up  something  soon  I' 

"  '  Scare  up  our  death- a-cold !'  muttered  the  martyred  parson, 
too  proud  to  take  the  responsibility  of  backing-out  upon  his 
own  shoulders. 

"  And  again,  and  again,  the  boatman  presented  a  Tantalus' 
cup  to  the  dominie's  lips,  in  a  hasty  glimpse  of  the  shore. 
Eound  and  about,  like  the  craft  of  the  ancient  mariner,  went 
the  phantom  boat  all  that  weary  night,  until  at  last,  they 
scared  up  daylight  and  sunshine,  and  the  exhausted  parson 
was  allowed  to  step  ashore. 

"  '  I  was  determined,'  said  the  guide  to  me,  as  he  finished 
his  story,  '  that  the  old  fellow  should  enjoy  his  shower !' " 

"Vermeille's  reminiscences  of  the  Sarariac,  remind  me," 
said  Mr.  Brownoker,  "  of  a  devil  of  a  tramp  I  once  had  with  a 
friend  thence  through  the  woods  to  the  Adirondack.  By  the  rough 
route  we  followed,  the  distance  to  the  Iron  Works  was  but  twenty- 
five  miles,  whereas  the  dry  beaten  path  would  have  taken  us 
back  again  to  our  starting  point  on  Lake  Champlain,  and  led 
us  a  roundabout  journey  of  a  hundred  miles.  The  passage 
through  the  forest  was  deemed  scarcely  practicable,  but  shoul 
dering  our  knapsacks,  we  ventured  upon  it.  It  so  happened, 
unfortunately,  that  the  usual  difficulties  of  the  way  were  at  the 
moment  greatly  increased  by  the  late  heavy  rains,  which  had 
fearfully  swollen  the  brooks  and  destroyed  the  footing.  Our 
first  day's  march,  passed  off  well  enough,  leading  as  it  did  for 
the  most  part,  over  a  tolerably  beaten  trail.  We  brought  up  for 
the  night,  at  the  cabin  of  an  intelligent  settler,  in  a  pleasant 
valley,  bravely  sentinelled  at  all  points  by  the  chief  veterans 
of  the  Adirondacks  and  their  allies.  Here,  was  again  seen  the 
grotesque  outline  of  the  Crotchet  Mountain,  which  had  formed 
so  prominent  a  feature  in  all  our  pictures  on  the  Saranac  lakes. 
Yonder  shone  the  bald  pate  of  the  White  Face,  and  farther 


A   TRAMP  IN  THE  WOODS.  243 

removed,  and  prouder  than  all,  rose  the  'sky-piercing'  cone 
of  the  renowned  Tahanous.  As  we  retired  for  the  night,  the 
weather  was  still  extremely  threatening,  and  so,  too,  when  we 
arose  the  next  morning,  but  to  accomplish  the  long  day's  work 
it  was  necessary  that  we  should  start  too  early  to  learn  the 
doubtful  purpose  of  the  clouds  towards  us.  At  day-break,  our 
host  put  us  upon  the  trail,  bidding  us  to  follow  the  opening  in 
the  forest,  which  had  been  made  years  before  in  the  construc 
tion  of  a  winter  road.  As  this  path  was  only  intended  for 
use  when  deep  snows  buried  the  ground,  the  stumps  had  been 
suffered  to  remain  in  such  wise  that  it  was  hardly  more  passable, 
at  this  season,  than  the  untouched  woods.  The  undergrowth, 

'  G  7 

too,  had  encroached  so  much,  as  to  continually  obscure  the 
clearing.  The  way  leading  along  the  base  of  the  hills,  and  by 
the  brook-sides,  carried  us  everywhere  through  deep  swamps. 
"We  were  soon  wet  through  from  battling  with  the  dripping 
bushes,  without  the  further  aid  of  a  dense  and  dreary  Scotch 
mist,  which  soon  came  on,  and  grew  heavier  and  darker 
through  all  the  endless  day.  At  first  we  stepped  over  the 
crowded  puddles  with  careful  daintiness;  after  the  passage  of 
half  a  mile,  however,  we  were  quite  content  to  sink  in  the 
mire  no  deeper  than  our  ankles,  and,  when  a  mile  had  passed 
away,  we  cried  '  Eureka,'  at  an  occasional  glimpse  of  our 
boot-tops.  It  was  a  weary  way,  and  toilsome.  The  miles 
seemed  magnified  to  leagues,  and  tired,  as  we  soon  grew,  we 
were  yet  too  much  soaked  and  chilled  to  stop  for  rest.  We 
kept  up  our  sinking  spirits  by  mutual  raillery  upon  our  woe 
begone  appearance,  and  by  now  and  then — when  the  rain-drops 
slackened — caricaturing  each  other  in  our  sketch-books.  Our 
host  had  warned  us,  that  near  the  middle  of  our  march  we 
should  bring  up  on  the  shore  of  some  lakes,  around  which 
no  road  had  been  cut,  as  they  have  crossed  always  on  the  ice. 
To  circumnavigate  their  intervening  waters,  we,  of  course, 


244  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

blunderingly  took  the  wrong  side.  Fearful  that  night  would 
come  upon  us,  before  our  journey  should  be  ended,  we  dashed 
on,  manfully,  over  rock  and  fallen  tree,  occasionally  following 
a  trail,  which  after  a  couple  of  hours'  struggle,  conducted  us 
to  a  ruined  bark  shanty,  on  the  shore  of  the  lake,  provokingly 
near  the  point  from  which  we  had  started.  Here  we  feared 
we  should  be  compelled  to  pass  the  night:  no  very  charm 
ing  prospect  in  our  total  want  of  provisions,  with  no  means 
of  kindling  a  fire,  and  with  no  arms  to  defend  ourselves  against 
the  wolves,  with  which  we  knew  the  woods  were  filled.  Look 
ing  out  forlornly  upon  the  troubled  waters,  doubly  ghastly 
at  this  twilight  hour,  amid  the  sad  drapery  of  the  storm,  we 
at  last,  as  good  luck  would  have  it,  espied  a  solitary  fisherman 
in  the  dim  distance.  My  companion  made  the  woods  echo 
with  'his  shouts,  but  his  voice  was  drowned  in  the  wailing  of 
the  winds.  I  came  to  the  rescue  with  an  unearthly  yell, 
which  startled  the  woods,  themselves,  no  less  than  it  electrified 
my  friend.  'That's  the  thing,'  he  cried,  delighted  at  the 
effect ;  '  do  that  again,  I  can 't :  it  will  fetch  him  to  a  fraction ;' 
and  '  fetch  him,'  it  very  happily  did.  He  turned  out  to  be  an 
inhabitant  of  the  settlement,  come  forth  for  a  day's  trouting. 
We  soon  explained  our  dilemma,  and  secured  his  services  to 
conduct  us  to  our  destination. 

"  '  You  never  could  have  got  'round  on  that  side  in  the 
world,'  said  he,  as  we  told  him  of  our  efforts  to  regain  the 
path,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  ponds.  'Just  a  little  ways 
beyond,  you  would  have  come  to  some  rocks  a  hundred  feet 
right  "  upendicular,"  which  you  wouldn't  have  circumvented  in 
a  month.' 

"  Taking  passage  in  the  ricketty  canoe,  we  passed  the  lakes, 
and  arrived,  with  the  darkness,  at  the  little  settlement  at  the 
Iron  "Works,  where  we  speedily  hung  ourselves  to  dry  by  the 
grateful  fires  of  the  rambling  inn — a  wretched  place  enough, 


THE  ADIRONDACKS.  245 

but  to  us  a  palace  at  that  moment.  In  the  satisfaction  of  our 
hearts,  we  liberally  rewarded  our  Charon,  mentally  repeating 
the  verses, 

Take  oh  boatman,  thrice  thy  fee, 

Take,  I  give  it  willingly ; 

For,  invisibly  to  thee, 

Spirits,  twain,  have  crossed  with  me. 

Spirits  of  renewed  life  and  hope,  which  grew  and  brightened 
with  the  pleasures  of  our  subsequent  rambles  in  the  vicinage; 
for  the  Iron  Works  is  the  centre  of  that  wide  area  of  the  pic 
turesque,  famous  under  the  name  of  the  Adirondacks.  In  close 
proximity  on  each  side  of  this  little  social  oasis  in  the  wilder 
ness,  are  the  beautiful  lakes  Henderson  and  Sandford.  The 
shores  of  these  waters  are  everywhere  bold  and  picturesque 
in  outline,  commanding  admirable  views  of  all  the  principal 
mountains,  and  affording  many  varied  glimpses  of  the  great 
walls  of  the  Indian  Pass.  The  soaring  crown  of  Tahanous, 
or  Mount  Marcy  as  it  is  sometimes  vulgarly  called,  we  reached 
from  this  centre.  Near  by,  also,  is  Cheny's  Lake,  named  in 
honour  of  the  famous  hunter,  of  whom  Headley  and  Lanman 
have  given  us  so  many  agreeable  stories ;  and  Avalanche  Lake, 
a  darksome  pool,  into  which  Mount  Golden  has  rudely  put 
his  foot. 

"  But  to  review  all  the  points  of  interest  here,  would  steal 
the  hours  which  some  of  us  can,  no  doubt,  occupy  more  agree 
ably  with  other  recital.  If  I  remember  aright,  I  once  heard 
Asphaltum  winning  the  love  of  a  fair  circle  with  some  story, 
true  or  fanciful,  no  matter  which,  about  an  old  solitaire  he 
encountered  among  these  hills." 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Mr.  Deepredde,  "  let  us  hear  the  expe 
rience  of  Asphaltum.  The  solitudes  of  the  Adirondacks  are  just 
the  scenes  for  such  a  dismal  yarn  as  he  would  spin." 


246  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

"  As  the  chairman  desires  to  say,"  observed  Mr.  Asphaltum, 
"  the  spirit  of  our  wildernesses  is  not  much  in  accord  with 
flippant  chat  or  gay  adventure,  and  yet  its  voice  is  grateful  to 
the  ear  which  can  hear.  If  it  pleases  you,  I  will  recall  what  I 
can,  of  my  recollections  of 


ermit  of  % 


"  The  stranger  will  do  well  not  to  venture  alone  into  the 
intricate  forests  of  the  Adirondacks.  Once  lost  in  the  pathless 
woods,  he  is  beyond  the  help  of  the  town  crier.  Even  the 
genius  of  Vidocq  would  fail  to  discover  him. 

"  It  was  my  ill-fortune,  on  my  first  arrival  here,  to  find 
the  few  professed  guides  pre-engaged,  and  the  rest  of  the  good 
folks  too  much  occupied,  by  their  own  affairs,  to  accompany 
me  very  often  in  my  wanderings. 

"  '  If,'  said  the  honest  mountaineer  with  whom  I  had  taken 
up  my  quarters,  '  If  you  could  only  get  the  doctor,  now,  to 
go  along  —  but  its  no  use  talking  about  that  —  though,  to  be 
sure,  he  does  sometimes  take  a  sort  o'  liking  to  painting  and 
writing  people  like  you  —  but  it  don't  often  happen.' 

"  '  Who  is  this  doctor  ?'  I  asked,  with  no  little  curiosity, 
having  already,  during  my  brief  residence  on  the  mountains, 
often  heard  his  name  vaguely  mentioned. 

"  '  He  hasn't  lived  here  long,'  continued  my  host,  not  heed 
ing  my  question,  '  but  there's  not  a  man  among  us  knows  the 
woods  as  he  does.  He  seems  to  be  at  home,  like,  in  the 
mountains  —  they're  sort  o'  brothers  and  sisters  to  him,  and  yet 
he  wasn't  raised  acqpng  'em.  They  say  he  is  from  the  cities, 
and  knows  more  than  all  the  fine  people  that  comes  here  put 
together.' 


THE  HERMIT  OF  THE  ADIRONDACK^.  247 

"  '  And  why  cannot  I  get  his  help,  if  he's  not  otherwise 
engaged  ?' 

" '  0,  bless  you !  he  isn't  a  guide,  though  he  sometimes 
goes  out  with  folks  when  he  takes  a  fancy  to  'em.  He  just 
lives  to  suit  himself,  sometimes  in  the  woods,  or  all  alone  with 
that  old  negro  he  brought  with  him,  who's  just  as  mum  as 
his  master ;  and  that's  mum  enough,  for  he  never  says  a 
word  about  himself,  and  never  has  anything  to  do  with  any 
body,  more  than  he  can  help,  except  when  folks  is  sick  or  in 
trouble,  and  then  he's  sure  to  be  on  hand,  and  a  kinder-hearted 
man  at  such  times,  or  a  better  doctor,  I  never  seed  or  read  on.' 

"  '  Ah  !   he's  a  physician,  then  ?' 

"  '  Well,  I  can't  tell  what  he  was  afore  he  came  here,  but, 
as  I  was  saying,  he  knows  pretty  much  everything ;  and  folks 
don't  stay  sick  long  after  he  comes.' 

" '  Ah,'  I  said  to  myself,  discovering  a  mare's  nest,  { he 
asks  no  fee?' 

"  '  He  soon  sets  'em  up,  and  then  flies  off,  and  we  don't  see 
anything  more  of  him  'till  trouble  comes  again.' 

"  This,  and  subsequent  conversations  with  my  host,  and 
others,  about  their  eccentric  neighbour,  'the  doctor,'  as  he 
was  simply  called,  aroused  my  curiosity,  and  won  my  interest 
— the  first,  when  I  supposed  him  to  be  some  soured  old 
misanthrope,  whom  the  world  loved  not,  because  he  had  never 
loved  the  world ;  and  the  second,  as  the  genuine,  if  not  genial 
regard  for  his  fellows,  displayed  in  his  sympathy  with  their 
afflictions,  if  not  with  their  joys,  led  me  to  picture  him  to  my 
heart,  as  a  noble  and  delicate  nature,  which  the  winds  of  ad 
versity  had  visited  too  roughly:  a  nature  bowed  down  and 
hallowed  by  the  too  heavy  pressure  of  sorrow. 

"  That  it  was  not  simply  a  passion  for  the  pleasures  of 
forest  life,  but  rather  the  remembrance  of  some  hidden  grief, 
which  had  brought  and  kept  him  here,  was  sufficiently  evi- 


248  THE   EOMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

denced  by  his  solitary  existence,  liis  habitually  grave  mood, 
and  his  careful  avoidance  of  all  society  in  its  light  and  happy 
hours. 

"  My  desire  to  learn  more  of  the  unknown,  was  only  in 
creased  by  the  utter  failure  of  all  my  efforts  to  make  his 
acquaintance.  At  length,  accident  served  me,  where  my  wit 
had  been  unsuccessful.  A  cold,  which  I  had  caught  through 
unwise  exposure  to  the  mountain  storms,  ended  in  a  violent 
fever,  and  long  days  of  delirium ;  and  the  first  object  which 
my  eyes  rested  upon,  when  I  awoke  to  consciousness,  was  a 
strange  face,  so  earnest  and  thoughtful  in  its  character,  so 
expressive  in  all  its  lineaments,  so  peculiar  in  its  strong  indi 
viduality,  so  exactly,  indeed,  in  everything,  except  in  its 
youthfulness,  the  face  which  my  fancy  had  painted  as  that  of 
the  mysterious  doctor,  that  I  felt  sure  it  could  be  none  but 
he,  who  was  bending  over  me  with  such  deep  and  grave 
interest. 

"  I  had  been  long  disposed  to  like  him,  and  now,  gratefully 
remembering  the  service  he  had  just  rendered  me,  I  pressed 
his  hand  with  all  my  feeble  strength. 

"  '  Ah !'  said  he,  coldly,  and  hastily  withdrawing  from  the 
bed.  '  He  will  do  well  enough  now,  without  my  further  care. 
Give  him  the  medicine  as  I  have  directed,  and  if  he  should 
not  continue  to  improve,  let  me  know,'  and  the  doctor  van 
ished. 

"  This  chilling  rejection  of  my  friendly  advances  did  not 
grieve  me,  as  it  would  have  done,  had  I  not  known  something 
of  the  doctor's  humour;  and,  I  was  still  further  consoled,  on 
learning  afterwards,  that  he  called,  at  intervals,  to  ask  after 
my  health,  and  occasionally  visited  me  in  my  sleeping  mo 
ments. 

"  As  my  health  returned,  I  resumed  my  explorations  of 
the  mountains — the  more  indefatigably,  in  the  hope  of  encoun- 


THE   HERMIT  OF  THE   ADIKONDACKS.  249 

tering  the  doctor,  who,  I  well  knew,  spent  most  of  his  time 
out  of  doors,  hunting,  fishing,  sketching,  or  in  lonely  musings. 
My  cherished  object  was  gradually  gained.  Here,  and  there, 
in  the  wildest  glens  and  hill-tops,  I  occasionally  came  upon 
the  solitaire.  From  the  exchange  of  simple  and  brief  civilities, 
these  interviews  grew  into  continued  conversations,  and,  at 
last,  they  reached  an  intimacy  which  brought  us  continually  to 
gether. 

"  The  simple  curiosity  which  had  first  prompted  me  to 
search  the  causes  which  led  the  exile  into  a  mode  of  life,  so 
unsuited  to  his  talents  and  prospects,  changed  into  a  worthier 
and  more  earnest  motive,  as  I  began  to  feel  the  beauty  of  his 
character,  and  the  splendour  of  his  genius — perceptions  which 
grew  upon  me  with  every  new  day's  study  and  observation. 
A  sincere  friendship  now  urged  me  to  fathom  the  secret  of 
his  unrest,  that  I  might  bring  to  him,  if  not  relief,  at  least  a 
soothing  sympathy. 

"  '  "What,'  I  continually  asked  myself,  is  the  heavy  cloud 
which  forever  darkens  his  thoughts.  That  no  crime  weighed 
upon  his  conscience,  I  knew  well  enough.  He  was  incapable 
of  wilful  wrong  to  any,  unless  to  himself.  A  selfish  and 
morose  temperament  I  was  sure  it  could  not  be,  for  his  nature 
was  gentle,  hopeful,  and  loving ;  deep,  not  boisterous ;  earnest, 
but  not  demonstrative.  Thwarted  ambition  it  was  not,  for  he 
possessed  the  youth  and  genius,  which  might  confidently  aspire 
to  the  highest  fame.  Neither  could  poverty  be  the  fatal  drug 
at  the  bottom  of  his  poisoned  cup,  since  he  seemed  to  set  but 
little  value  upon  riches,  or  any  of  the  pleasures  at  their  com 
mand:  and  there  was  evidently  within  his  reach  gold  enough, 
at  least,  for  all  his  desires. 

"  There  remained  but  one  other  influence — the  only  one, 
indeed,  powerful  enough  to  so  deeply  affect  and  crush  a  strength 
like  his.  'Here,  then,  lies  the  secret,'  said  I — but  you  shall 


250  THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

have  the  brief,  sad  tale,  in  his  own  words,  as  he  told  it  to  me, 
in  an  hour  and  mood  of  tearful  confidence. 

"  It  was  a  fearful  night,  and  so  wild  was  the  storm,  that 
being  unable  to  regain  my  own  home,  I  was  compelled,  not 
unwillingly,  to  accept  the  hospitality  of  the  solitaire,  at  whose 
jealously  guarded  cottage  I  had  been  passing  the  day. 

"  A  long  conversation  upon  the  nature  and  philosophy  of 
life — the  variety,  weight,  and  value  of  its  duties  and  delights, 
its  hopes  and  fears — had  led  us  to  consider  all  the  thousand 
impulses  and  desires  which  fill  and  stir  the  human  heart. 

"  '  The  only  real  happiness,  the  only  true  life,'  said  my  friend, 
as  the  night  waned,  '  lies,  after  all,  in  the  culture  and  develop 
ment  of  the  affectionate  part  of  our  nature.  In  the  degree 
it  may  contribute  to  this  growth,  the  humblest  object  becomes 
ennobled  and  hallowed ;  while,  without  this  end,  the  loftiest  and 
proudest  possession  and  achievement  is  but  an  idle  vanity.  Love 
is  the  soul  of  content  and  pleasure  in  this  life,  as  it  is  the 
evidence  to  our  minds,  and  the  hope  to  our  hearts,  of  another 
higher  and  more  lasting  existence : — love  in  all  its  degrees  of 
manifestation — from  the  cold  sense  of  duty,  which  leads  us  to 
perform  our  role  in  life  honestly  and  justly — to  the  tempest  of 
passion,  in  which  our  very  being  is  merged  in  that  of  another.' 

"  '  Then,  why,'  said  I,  '  will  you  not  be  happy  yourself  in  the 
cultivation  of  this  subtle,  perfumed  flower  of  love?  If  I  read 
your  character  truly,  there  are  few  natures  better  fitted  to  give 
and  to  win  its  virgin  sympathy  and  devotion.' 

"  '  My  friend,'  said  the  doctor,  in  a  deep  and  earnest  voice, 
and  affectionately  grasping  my  proffered  hand,  'you  have,  I 
am  certain,  truly  divined  the  hidden  secret  which  I  never 
thought  to  betray  to  any  living  soul,  and  which  it  has  been 
my  unceasing  task  to  hide  even  from  my  own  thoughts.  I 
have  cultivated  that  magic  flower  of  love — watered  it  with  all 
the  fervour  and  devotion  of  my  heart,  and  drank  in  its  intoxica- 


THE   HEKMIT  OF  THE  ADIRONDACK^.  251 

ting  fragrance,  until  the  whole  world  has  seemed  filled  with 
its  loveliness.  Then  I  was  strong  and  invincible  in  will,  and 
effort,  and  hope,  fearing  nothing,  and  daring  all  things.  Then — 
but  why  recall  those  joyous  hours  only  to  make  the  present 
weary  days  yet  more  desolate  ?' 

"'And  if  the  flower  withered  in  its  beauty,'  said  I,  'will 
not  the  same  breath  give  life  to  another?' 

" '  "Would  that  it  had  withered,  for  then  the  dead  leaves 
would  have  remained  to  me,  as  a  consolation  and  a  hope.  But 
it  lived  alas! — lived  to  kill,  with  its  false  and  poisonous 
odour,  the  tender  trust  which  it  beguiled  with  a  too  rash  life. 
Ah,  my  friend,  you  have  never  blindly  groped  in  the  black 
darkness  which  follows  the  setting  of  a  sun  like  mine. 

"  '  Suns  set  to  rise  again,  if  we  will  but  open  our  eyes  to  the 
dawning  light,  and  the  longest  night  has  still  the  sweet,  if  less 
glowing,  radiance  of  moon  and  stars  to  guide  and  cheer  our 
way.' 

"  'The  first  crushing  bitterness  of  my  sorrow  past,'  con 
tinued  the  doctor,  'my  pride,  my  manhood,  and  my  reason 
all  pointed  to  that  softer  light  of  which  you  speak,  and  the 
struggle  of  my  life  has  since  been,  to  grow  content  in  the 
enjoyment  of  such  poorer  pleasures  as  it  still  left  me.  To  this 
end  I  have  sought  to  forget,  in  the  quiet  of  the  old  woods,  all 
the  thoughts  and  scenes  of  the  bitter  past,  and  to  fill  my  heart 
with  new  and  less  treacherous  loves.  I  have  learned  many  a 
lesson,  not  only  of  patience,  but  of  hope,  in  the  study  of  the 
useful  page  of  Nature  :  learned  to  speak  calmly  to  you,  a  stranger, 
of  emotions  that  once  maddened  me  when  whispered  to  my 
own  ears.  Perhaps  I  may,  in  time,  grow  strong  in  their  peace 
ful  teachings,  to  resume  my  place,  and  play  my  part  in  the 
great  theatre  of  life.' 

"  More  than  once,  during  this  dialogue,  had  we  stopped  to 
remark  the  progress  of  the  storm  which  had  detained  me  at  the 


252  THE  ROMANCE    OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

doctor's  hearth,  and  which  in  its  desolate  spirit  had,  no  doubt, 
much  contributed  to  induce  his  unexpected  confidence.  I  was 
about  to  question  him  more  particularly  of  the  circumstances 
which  had  so  terribly  and  disastrously  affected  his  life  and 
character,  not  without  a  vague  hope  that  all  might  yet  be  well, 
when  our  attention  was  arrested  by  what  seemed  to  us  the 
sound  of  human  voices  mingling  with  the  mourning  winds. 

" '  Our  fears  have  deceived  us,'  said  the  doctor ;  '  this  is 
a  lonely  neighbourhood,  and  it  is  seldom  that  a  traveller  passes, 
even  in  the  sunshine.  Certainly,  at  this  hour,  and  in  such  a 
tempest,  no  one — ' 

"  At  this  moment,  the  fancied  voices  came  to  us  again, 
and  now  in  unmistakable  calls  for  help,  and,  immediately  after 
wards,  there  followed  a  loud  and  violent  rapping  at  the  door. 

"  '  Well,  well,'  said  the  doctor  in  answer  to  my  inquiring  look, 
as  I  moved  to  admit  the  strangers,  '  it  would  be  brutish  to  refuse 
hospitality  on  such  a  night,  but  I  cannot  play  the  host  until, 
at  least,  I  know  who  are  my  guests.  Serve  me,  my  friend, 
now,  as  you  have  often  done  before,  and  take  my  place  as  master 
of  the  house.' 

"  While  thus  speaking,  the  doctor  slipped  into  his  private 
sanctum,  and,  unbolting  the  door,  I  admitted  the  benighted  travel 
lers. 

"To  my  surprise,  my  eyes  fell  not  upon  weather-bound 
hunters,  but  upon  an  elderly  gentleman  and  a  young  lady,  evi 
dently  little  used  to  such  rude  travel. 

"  Without  stopping  for  a  word  of  greeting,  the  father,  as  he 
seemed  to  be,  wheeled  a  lounge  up  to  the  blazing  fire — for  fires 
are  often  needed  in  the  summer  time  here — upon  which  he 
eagerly  placed  the  half  conscious  girl,  and  sought  to  revive  her 
by  assurances  of  safety  and  comfort. 

"  While  removing  the  numerous  shawls  and  handkerchiefs 
in  which  she  was  half  stifled,  a  miniature  fell  unobserved  to 


THE  HERMIT  OF  THE  ADIRONDACK^.  253 

the  floor,  which,  not  wishing  to  disturb  the  anxious  cares  of 
the  traveller,  I  placed  silently  upon  the  table. 

"  '  I  am  sorry  to  intrude  upon  you  so  unceremoniously,'  said 
the  stranger  at  last,  and  when  the  invalid  seemed  somewhat 
more  at  ease;  'but  our  carriage  has  been  broken  in  the  dark 
ness  of  the  night  and  the  roughness  of  your  mountain  roads, 
and  we  had  no  alternative  except  to  wait  for  morning  in  the 
woods.' 

"As  I  uttered  a  few  words  of  the  cordial  welcome  which 
I  felt,  the  old  man  cast  a  wondering  look  over  the  apartment, 
evidently  surprised  at  its  unexpected  elegance.  His  perplexity 
seemed  to  increase,  as  his  eye  fell  upon  the  books  and  pictures, 
and  other  objects  of  taste  and  luxury  which  filled  the  adjoin 
ing  room,  the  door  of  which  the  doctor  had  left  open  in  his 
hasty  retreat. 

"But  his  whole  care  was  again  demanded  by  the  suffering 
girl,  who  grew  every  moment  more  and  more  indisposed.  A 
violent  fever  appeared  to  have  seized  her,  and  very  soon  her 
mind  wandered,  and  she  talked,  incoherently,  now  of  the  scenes 
through  which  she  had  just  passed,  and  then,  of  misfortunes  and 
sorrows  of  years  ago. 

" '  The  poor  child,'  said  the  father,  as  we  bent  over  the 
invalid,  'has  known  affliction  even  in  her  young  life,  and  des 
pite  all  my  jealous  care.  I  brought  her  hither  to  distract  her 
troubled  thoughts,  and  to  recruit  her  enfeebled  health ;  and 
now,  alas  !  I  fear  that  I  have  but  hastened  the  terrible  fatality 
which  I  have  so  long  dreaded.  0,  would  that  there  were  a 
physician  near!' 

" '  Thank  heaven  !  your  wish  is  not  in  vain,'  I  cried, 
turning  to  seek  the  solitaire,  whose  medical  skill  I  had  not 
before  thought  of. 

"  But  the  doctor  had  anticipated  me,  and  was  already  bend 
ing  earnestly  over  the  sick  girl. 


254  THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

" '  You !'  ejaculated  the  old  man,  starting  back  with  sur 
prise  and  fear,  as  the  hermit  stood  before  her.  '  Good  heavens ! 
what  does  all  this  mean — where  am  I ?' 

"But  the  doctor  was  too  much  occupied  with  his  patient 
to  heed  the  words.  Flying,  almost,  in  his  eagerness,  he  sought 
some  medicines,  which  he  as  hastily  and  nervously  administered. 

"  '  Save  her !  save  her  1'  cried  the  old  man,  '  for  it  is  you 
who  have  killed  her!' 

"  '  I,  who  have  killed  her !  I,  who  would  have  given  my 
life  to  serve  her  idlest  pleasure !' 

"  '  Yes,  you !  By  your  unreasonable  doubts,  and  your  in 
sane  folly,  crediting  the  rumours  of  the  world,  above  her  own 
pure  and  truthful  nature.  Listen  to  her  wild  ravings !  What 
does  she  say?  Is  a  love  which  can  be  so  wounded,  and  yet 
so  devoted,  to  be  trampled  upon  at  the  first  idle  breath  of 
slander  ?' 

"  The  poor  solitaire  did  listen,  and  his  strong  frame,  invigo 
rated  by  unceasing  exercise  in  the  forest  air,  shook  like  a  reed 
with  the  deep  agitation  of  his  thought.  Anguish  and  joy, 
remorse  and  hope,  seemed  alternately  to  tear  his  soul. 

"  Tremblingly  clutching  the  pulse  of  the  sick  girl,  he  seized 
the  old  man's  hand,. and  he  gasped,  'Forgive  me,  and  teach  her, 
too,  to  pardon,  for  I — I  also  have  suffered !' 

" '  Alas,  alas !'  was  the  only  response  of  the  sorrowing 
parent,  'she  will  not  live  to  pardon.' 

" '  Not  live  I  She  shall  live !'  cried  the  doctor,  in  a  tone 
of  such  indomitable  will,  as  of  itself  to  bring  hope  to  the  old 
man's  heart. 

"  I  had  opened  the  fallen  locket,  and  the  picture  within 
would  alone  have  told  me  part  of  the  tale  which  this  scene 
unfolded,  and  which  the  wondering  and  happy  eyes  of  the 
invalid  concluded  when  they  opened  with  returning  conscious 
ness,  and  rested  upon  the  expressive  face  of  the  young  doctor. 


THE  HERMIT  OF  THE  ADIRONDACKS.  255 

"  I  need  not  pursue  my  narrative,  to  tell  you  of  the  fair 
traveller's  recovery,  of  the  mutual  explanations  which  followed, 
of  the  changed  humour  of  the  melancholy  hermit,  and  of  the 
ultimate  loss  to  the  Adirondacks  of  one  of  the  most  interesting 
and  useful  of  its  population." 


"  Certainly  a  very  affecting  and  instructive  story,"  said  Mr. 
Brownoker,  "  but  I  wonder,  that  in  all  my  long  rambles  in  the 
Adirondacks,  I  never  should  have  heard  a  syllable  of  the 
wonderful  hermit,  and  have  never  once  set  eyes  upon  his 
mysterious  cottage  orne." 

"  That,"  replied  Mr.  Asphaltum,  "  is  because  you  do  not 
see  things  with  the  true  poetic  vision." 

"A  primrose  by  the  river's  brim, 
A  yellow  primrose  is  to  him ; 
And  it  is  nothing  more," 

said    Professor    Scumble,    as    our    friends,    like    Dr.    Blimber's 
pupils,  began  to  "  ooze  away." 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

• 

"NOTHING  more  easy,"  said  Mr.  Megilp,  "now  that  we  are 
leaving  the  Adirondacks,  than  to  push  across  the  sunny  waters 
of  Lake  Champlain,  into  the  comfortable  domains  of  'Down 
East.'  The  change,  too,  from  the  privations  of  our  late  rough 
hunting  grounds,  to  the  sleek  comforts  of  New  England  domes 
ticity,  will  make  a  welcome  contrast." 

"  Patience,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  the  Spartan  chair.  "  That 
is  a  bonne  louche  to  be  kept  for  the  last.  In  the  mean  time, 
we  have  to  run  over  that  important  pictorial  sub-section  of  the 
republic,  which  the  geographies  call  the  Middle  States,  and 
of  which  Pennsylvania  is  the  'key-stone,'  and  little  Delaware, 
and  most  maligned  New  Jersey,  valuable  '  bricks.'  Maryland, 
too,  though  appertaining  in  some  respects  to  the  Southern 
household,  is  a  near  cousin  of  this  branch  of  the  family.  And 
our  own  glorious  home,  which  comes  under  the  same  classifica 
tion,  claims  yet  a  tribute  from  our  hands,  in  addition  to  the 
many  pleasant  things  we  have  been  already  constrained  to  say 
of  her.  But  ths  natural  beauties  of  the  Empire  State  are  so 
various,  and  of  such  pre-eminent  interest,  that  we  cannot  pre 
tend  to  do  more  than  glance  at  them.  On  our  way  to  Pennsyl- 
17 


258        THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMEKICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

vania,  we  can  delight  our  souls  with  the  world-wide  grandeur 
of  the  highlanded  Hudson,  and  the  verdant  slopes  and  rugged 
blufls  of  the  untiring  Catskills  ;  neither  of  which  leading 
episodes  in  our  landscape,  have  we  yet  deigned  to  notice. 
Fortunately  for  us,  they  are  both  so  familiarly  known,  as  to 
require  only  passing  mention. 

"  We  have  in  our  portfolio  a  beautiful  picture  of  the  Cats- 
kill  region,  from  the  magic  pencil  of  our  revered  Prince  of 
Landscapists — the  lamented  Cole.*  The  scene  is  a  memorable 
one,  lying  near  the  mouth  of  the  Catskill  creek,  those  pictur 
esque  waters,  which  after  dropping,  in  so  many  romantic  and 
renowned  cascades,  through  the  gorges  and  glens  of  the  noble 
hills  westward,  lend  such  additional  charms  to  the  sweet  valley 
of  the  Hudson,  in  their  gleesome  journey  to  the  great  river. 
The  material  for  pictorial  study  is  so  abundant  and  rich  among 
the  Catskills,  that  their  summits  and  cloves  have  always  been 
a  favourite  summer  studio  for  our  painters.  Most  of  us  have 
passed  live-long  months  in  their  solitary  glens.  I  was,  myself, 
at  one  time,  sketching  here  by  the  road-side,  with  two  or  three 
fellow  daubers,  at  intervals,  hard  by,  when  casting  my  eye 
upon  a  passing  vehicle,  I  descried  the  person,  and  caught  the 
voice,  of  a  city  acquaintance.  Amused  to  meet  me  so  unex 
pectedly,  after  he  had  successively  encountered  my  companions, 
he  exclaimed,  calling  me  by  name : 

" '  Halloa  !  is  that  you  Deepredde  ?  Now,  by  the  gods, 
I  have  often  heard  that  these  hills  are  infested  by  painters — 
vulgarism  for  panther — and  I  must,  at  last,  believe  the  story !' 

"  Frequently  in  traversing  a  gorge  of  the  Catskills,  every 
turn  has  either  brought  me  upon  an  enraptured  student,  or  has 
shown  me  the  traces  of  one,  in  an  unfinished  canvass,  carefully 
secreted  in  the  cavities  of  the  rocks ;  or  in  scattered  egg-shells 
and  other  restes  of  their  frugal  noon-tide  bivouacs." 

*  See  Vignette. 


THE   ALMA  MATER  OF  THE   PAINTERS.  259 

"Ah,  you  touch  a  happy  chord  now  in  the  painter's  expe 
rience,"  said  Mr.  Flake  white.  "  Those  genial  days  of  summer 
vagabondage,  wandering  with  sketch-box  and  staff  over  quiet 
smiling  hill  and  dale,  with  no  thoughts  but  those  of  beauty 
and  pleasure :  unmindful  alike  of  coy  patrons  and  snarling 
critics." 

"The  Catskills  were  a  cherished  haunt  of  our  great  Cole, 
who  lived  and  died  in  their  namesake  village,  near  by,"  resumed 
the  chairman.  "  Many  of  his  finest  pictures  were  studied  here ; 
and  here  he  gathered  much  of  the  material  of  his  famous  epics 
of  '  The  Course  of  Empire,'  and  '  The  Yoyage  of  Life.'  Here, 
too,  our  beloved  living  leader,  Durand,  who,  with  Cole  and 
Doughty,  form  the  great  parent  triumvirate  of  the  present  prom 
ising  school  of  American  landscapists,  has  studied  with  immor 
tal  success. 

"All  the  younger  painters,  too,  have  drunk  deeply  of  the 
same  inspiring  fountain.  Here,  Cropsey  and  Kensett  have 
lovingly  pored  over  the  intricate  and  marvellous  wonders  of 
running  waters  and  mossy  rocks.  Here,  Church  has  looked 
abroad  upon  the  glories  of  the  rising  and  the  setting  sun.  Here, 
too,  Gifford  has  .gathered  strength  for  great  achievement ;  while 
Casilear,  and  Gignoux,  and  Huntington,  and  Boutelle,  and 
Hubbard,  and  Hart,  and  Cranch,  with  many  others  of  our  gifted 
brothers,  look  back  to  the  Catskills  as  the  kind  alma  mater  of 
their  professional  life. 

"  But  we  linger  too  long.  Farewell,  gallant  hills  I  and  all 
hail !  ye  brave  brotherhood,  down  there  in  the  grand  passes  of 
the  Highlands !  ye  rugged  Breakneck !  ye  storied  Crownest ! 
and  ye  venerable  old  Dunderburg !  "Welcome  all,  ye  hundred 
sweet  whispers  of  stirring  history,  and  poetic  tradition,  which, 
everywhere,  reach  us  from  wave  and  shore,  as  we  float  over 
the  deep  clear  waters  towards  the  busy  city." 

"While    Deepredde    makes    his    way    down  -the    Hudson," 


260  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

said  Mr.  Vermeille,  "I,  with  your  good  leave,  will  take  another 
route,  following  the  rapid  rail,  via  Trenton  and  Gennesee,  to 
Niagara,  and  returning,  through  that  world  of  winsome  scenery, 
upon  the  upper  Susquehanna,  and  the  hill-caged  Delaware, 
traversed  by  the  five  hundred  iron  miles  of  the  Erie  Eoad. 

"The  great  cataract  is  beyond  my  eulogy.  I  cannot  do 
justice  to  the  subject,  as  the  celebrated  swearer  said,  turning 
despairingly  to  the  crowd  of  expectant  urchins,  when  on  reach 
ing  the  brow  of  a  weary  hill,  the  back-board  of  his  apple-cart 
gave  way,  and  all  its  treasured  contents  rolled  down  again  to 
the  bottom.  So  we  will  leave  Niagara  to  thunder  its  own  great 
glory. 

"The  long  route  of  the  Erie  Eailway  has  opened  a  region 
of  very  changeful  character.  Here  you  dash  through  the  broad 
valleys,  watered  by  the  Susquehanna  and  its  affluents,  and 
past  the  numberless  quiet  lakes  of  Western  New  York;  and 
anon,  you  are  buried  in  the  wilderness  of  the  brawling  Dela 
ware.  While  the  chairman  makes  his  way  to  the  landscape  of 
the  Keystone  State,  through  New  Jersey,  or  via  Philadelphia 
and  Harrisburg,  I  will  cut  across  the  country,  from  some  point 
on  the  Erie  Road,  and  meet  him  in  the  fair  Valley  of  Wyoming, 
that  first  of  Nature's  altars  there." 

"  We  could  not  have  a  better  rendezvous,"  said  Mr.  Deep- 
redde,  "than  fair  Wyoming,  the  home  of  the  mythical  Gertrude, 
and  the  culminating  point  of  the  picturesque  on  the  Susque 
hanna,  the  noblest  of  those  graphic  rivers  which  form  the  chief 
sources  of  natural  beauty  in  the  Keystone  State.  She  has  no 
lake  scenery  except  some  fifty  miles  of  the  waters  of  the  great 
Erie  on  her  north-western  boundary,  though  the  stranger  looking 
down,  in  early  morning  from  the  hill-tops,  to  the  beds  of  dense, 
white  fog  spread  over  the  low  grounds,  might  think  otherwise, 
until  he  grew  wiser.  It  is  only  thus  in  our  fancy  that  we  may 
here  see,  as  Campbell's  noted  vision  saw,  '  Lake  after  lake, 


THE   RIVERS   OF   PENNSYLVANIA.  261 

interminably  gleam.'  She  has  no  striking  cascades  either,  and 
her  best  mountain  and  valley  views  are  seen  from  her  river 
levels,  or  from  the  neighbouring  heights ;  but  the  charming  phy 
sique  of  the  Susquehanna,  the  West  Branch,  and  the  Juniata — 
of  the  Delaware  and  its  affluents,  the  Lehigh  and  the  Schuylkill, 
is  rich  compensation  for  what  she  has  not. 

"  The  two  great  branches  of  the  Susquehanna  unite  at  the 
pleasant  village  of  Northumberland,  of  which  our  portfolio 
furnishes  us  an  agreeable  picture,  by  the  veteran  Bartlett. 
Through  the  whole  course  of  these  arms,  and  thence  to  the 
Chesapeake  Bay,  it  is  more  or  less  attractive;  though  its 
finest  portions  are  above  the  junction — perhaps  at  "Wyoming, 
and  yet  more  particularly  within  the  ten  or  twelve  miles  imme 
diately  south  of  that  celebrated  valley.  At  this  point,  the 
mountain  shores  soar  to  a  bold  and  commanding  height,  and 
are  exceedingly  graceful  in  their  lines:  while  the  wooded 
islands,  of  liberal  occurrence,  add  infinitely  to  the  picturesque 
effect.  Wyoming,  which  is  an  extremely  fertile  plain  of  twenty 
miles  extent,  is  usually  seen  by  tourists  from  the  high  hills 
back  of  the  village  of  Wilkesbarre,  though  the  most  pleasing, 
if  not  the  widest,  view  is  to  be  had  from  the  lofty  grounds 
near  Nanticoke,  at  the  lower  extremity  of  the  valley,  and  at  the 
entrance  of  that  varied  passage  of  the  river  to  which  I  have 
just  referred.  Here  the  current  is  narrow,  and,  excepting  when 
broken  by  shoals  or  rapids,  is  of  unusual  depth.  Lower  down, 
the  river  bed  widens  greatly,  sometimes  forming  broad  lake- 
like  reaches.  There  sand-bars  stretch  out  for  a  long  distance, 
and  so  shallow,  often,  is  the  water,  that  the  cattle  groups,  in 
hot  summer  days,  wander  out  so  far  from  the  shore  that  they 
look  like  small  moving  islands. 

"  The  Juniata,  one  of  the  chief  tributaries  of  the  Susque 
hanna,  though  inferior  to  that  stream  in  pictorial  wealth,  is  still 
stored  with  effective  and  winsome  scenes.  Mr.  Murray,  the  dis- 


262  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

languished  English  tourist,  said,  after  his  first  view  of  this  fine 
river,  '  To  mj  shame  be  it  spoken,  I  never  heard  of  the  Juniata 
until  this  day.'" 

"  The  blue  Juniata,"  said  Scumble,  humming,  sotto  voce, 
the  popular  air  of  that  name. 

"  It  flows  like  most  of  its  sister  waters  through  fertile  lime 
stone  valleys,  shadowed  by  mountain  ridges,  in  which  iron 
ore  is  always  abundant.  None  of  these  rivers  are  navigable, 
excepting  the  Delaware  to  Philadelphia.  But  canals  have  long 
followed  their  windings,  and  now  railways  are  speedily  increas 
ing  the  facilities  of  travel  and  transportation." 

"  Allow  me  a  moment,"  said  Mr.  Megilp,  "  to  recall  a  thought 
of  the  pleasant  days  which  I  have  passed  on  the  Delaware,  and 
particularly  at  that  imposing  scene,  the  great  Water-gap.  At  this  • 
point,  the  river  traverses  the  Blue  Eidge  through  a  grand  gorge 
of  two  miles  extent.  On  all  sides,  it  is  here  hemmed  in  by  huge 
precipices,  which  tower  to  the  lofty  height  of  twelve  hundred, 
and  even  sixteen  hundred  feet,  while  space  is  scarcely  left  for 
public  way  between  their  base  and  the  water.  Seen  from  many 
of  the  higher  situations  around,  this  passage  presents  numerous 
striking  studies  for  the  painter. 

"  Not  far  remote,  the  Lehigh  makes  a  similar  break  through 
the  mountains,  opening  another  volume  of  interesting  pictures. 
This  river,  though  smaller  by  far  than  those  of  which  we  have 
already  spoken,  is  scarcely  less  charming.  In  its  whole  rugged 
mountain  course,  the  changing  scene  is  often  impressive,  and 
always  picturesque. 

"  The  Schuylkill,  too,  is  a  beautiful  stream,  though,  except 
ing  in  its  upper  waters,  it  is  of  a  more  peaceful  character  than 
the  Lehigh.  It  traverses  the  rich  agricultural  districts  about 
Philadelphia,  and  greets  the  Delaware  a  few  miles  below  that 
city.  Near  the  capital,  by  the  way,  is  a  sweet  little  brooklet, 
called  the  Wissahiccon.  It  is  an  humble  vassal  of  the  Schuyl- 


DELAWARE   AND  NEW  JERSEY.  263 

kill,  but  is  held  in  high,  regard  for  its  romantic  beauties,  and 
for  the  pleasant  drives  along  its  shady  banks.  The  artists  of 
Philadelphia  know  it  well,  and  love  it  better  than  many  a  more 
ambitious  torrent." 

"We  must  not  forget  'Little  Delaware,'"  said  Mr.  Brown- 
oker,  "  though  she  offers  us  but  the  widow's  mite  in  the  way 
of  landscape  attraction.  Yet  this  mite,  as  we  find  it  along  the 
romantic  shores  of  the  famous  Brandywine,  is  well  worth  the 
having.  Then,  too,  there  are  many  scenes  within  her  Lillipu 
tian  borders,  which  tell  stirring  tales  of  the  olden  time — the 
trying  times  when,  as  Scumble  might  say,  our  fathers  were 
'striking  for  the  green  graves  of  their  sires,  God,  and  their 
native  land.' " 

"  Or  New  Jersey — maligned  Jersey,"  added  the  chairman. 
"Many  portions  of  her  ostracized  territory  are  flat  enough  to 
be  sure,  but  think  of  the  mountains  and  lakes  in  the  northern 
districts :  of  fair  Eamapo,  of  placid  Greenwood,  Wywayandah, 
Mackopin,  and  adjacent  waters.  Then,  too,  she  has  a  share 
of  the  Delaware  and  its  Water-gap,  and  the  Palisades  of  the 
Hudson  are  part  of  her  dower,  though,  to  be  sure,  she  has  to 
cross  over  to  the  Empire  State  to  see  these  jewels.  But  there 
is  one  charming  spot,  which  is  all  her  own — those  famous  falls 
of  the  Passaic  at  Patterson ;  and  besides  that,  her  long  varied 
stretches  of  sea-coast,  ending  in  that  much  prized  resort  for 
worn-out  citizens,  Cape  May." 

"  Since  the  chairman  has  reached  the  jumping-off  place  of 
the  Jerseys,"  said  Mr.  Yermeille,  "I  will  wind  up  our  topogra 
phy  of  the  Middle  States,  with  a  peep  at  the  hills  and  streams 
of  fair  Maryland,  Her  mountain  peaks  extending  through 
the  narrow  western  strip  of  her  domain,  are  not  of  very  sa 
lient  elevation,  though  rich  in  beauty,  to  the  eye  which  will 
explore  their  solitary  recesses.  The  Potomac  and  Patapsco, 
and  the  Patuxent  Eivers  have  gathered,  upon  their  shores,  the 


264  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

finest  incidents  in  the  picturesque  of  Maryland.  The  good 
people  of  Baltimore  think  very  much  of  the  rural  charms 
which  we  ever  find  on  the  Patapsco  at  Ellicott's  Mills,  not  far 
from  their  city  homes.  Just  below,  there  is,  you  remember, 
an  imposing  viaduct  of  grand  arches,  which  conducts  the  rail 
ways  of  "Washington  across  the  wide  valley  of  Gwyn's  Falls. 

"  The  artist  may  pick  up  pleasing  bits  everywhere  in  this 
pleasant  land,  though  it  is  not  the  region  he  would  deliberately 
select  for  study." 

"  We  must  not  leave  this  latitude,"  said  Mr.  Deepredde, 
"  without  a  mention  of  the  vast  coal  and  iron  beds  of  Pennsyl 
vania,  which  are  not  only  themselves  quite  a  striking  feature 
in  the  landscape,  but  have  produced  some  other  notable  indi 
viduality,  the  canal  scenery.  The  mining  and  transportation  of 
coal  is  the  chief  business  of  life  throughout  all  the  great  anthra 
cite  region  we  have  travelled  in  our  successful  search  for  the 
picturesque  between  the  shores  of  the  Susquehanna  and  the 
Delaware.  Seeing  the  begrimed  faces  of  the  groups  of  miners 
coming  from  their  work  may,  sometimes,  lead  you,  for  a  mo 
ment,  to  think  you  are  again  traversing  the  cotton  lands  of  the 
South.  Boating  on  the  canals  has  no  little  influence  upon  the 
manners  and  character  of  the  population,  since  it  seems  to  be 
a  law  of  nature  among  the  youth  here,  to  spend  a  certain  part 
of  their  years  in  this  sort  of  life,  as  in  Prussia  it  is  a  law  of 
the  land  that  every  one  shall  for  a  season  be  a  soldier." 

"  Speaking  of  the  Pennsylvania  canals,"  said  Mr.  Megilp, 
"  recalls  to  my  mind  a  little  incident  of  travel  in  which  I  had 
the  good  fortune  to  remove  some  dangerous  snags  from  the 
current  of  true,  though  humble  love.  It  is  a  simple  instance  of 


LOVE'S  LABOUR  WON.  265 


f  oiK's  fater  SKmt. 

"  We  were  weather-bound — my  friend  and  I — at  a  quiet 
country  inn  on  Susquehanna's  side.  The  hospitable  people 
did  their  best  to  make  us  comfortable,  and  we,  according  to 
our  habit,  seconded  their  generous  endeavour  to  the  utmost 
of  our  philosophy  and  ability ;  but  the  united  '  pull'  was  rather 
ineffectual.  It  would  have  been  entirely  so,  but  for  the  grace 
and  wit  and  good  humour  of  our  hostess's  daughter,  a  ruddy 
lass,  who  poured  out  our  coffee,  made  our  beds,  and  was 
obliging  enough  to  laugh  at  all  our  poor  jokes. 

"  In  her  desire  to  make  us  at  home,  Sarah  Jane  had  re 
signed  to  our  use  her  own  little  boudoir,  as  we  saw  at  once, 
in  the  many  subtle  indications  of  female  occupancy:  not  so 
much  the  various  mystic  garments  which  bedecked  the  low 
white  walls,  as  the  neat  fringed  window  curtains,  the  pretty 
easy  tidy-covered  rocking  chair,  the  dainty  little  toilette  stand, 
with  its  budding  rose  blossoms,  its  bottle  of  nice  perfume,  its 
bits  of  ribbon,  and  the  stray  hair  pins,  here  and  there,  and  more 
especially,  the  general  indescribable  air  and  aroma  of  the  apart 
ment.  Here  were  some  books,  too :  a  morocco  bible,  received 
as  a  reward  of  merit  from  a  Sabbath  school,  a  little  collection 
of  gems  from  the  poets,  particularly  the  blighted  ones — the 
gems,  not  the  poets ;  a  carefully  preserved  album,  nearly  empty ; 
a  '  Love's  Token,  from  J.  B. ;'  a  daguerreotype — probably 
'  J.  B.'  himself;  and  several  interesting,  though  rather  ancient 
annuals,  among  them  a  well  worn  '  Farmer's  Almanac.' 

"  All  these  things,  from  the  wardrobe  to  the  calendar, 
amused  us  but  for  a  moment,  and  we  looked  about  for  other 
inspiration.  It  seemed  to  come  at  our  wish,  when,  as  we 


266  THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

opened  the  little  drawer  of  the  toilette,  our  greedy  eyes  fell 
upon  a  packet  of  letters,  finished  and  unfinished,  and  in  a 
lady's  hand. 

"  It  was  very  naughty  in  us  to  look  at  more  than  the  out- 
sides  of  these  sacred  missives,  but  what  could  we  do?  We 
were  expiring  with  ennui,  and  then,  too,  they  might  concern 
Sarah  Jane,  and  we  took  a  lively  interest  in  Sarah  Jane.  On 
examination,  Sarah  Jane's  they  truly  seemed  to  be,  either  as 
the  work  of  her  own  hands,  or  as  the  gift  of  another.  We 
perused  them  with  glowing  interest,  for,  supposing  them  to  be 
hers,  they  explained  to  us  that  pensive  grace  which  so  sweetly 
toned  her  naturally  buoyant  nature — that  store  of  secret  sad 
thought  and  experience  which  gave  so  much  repose  to  her 
manner.  It  was  an  oft-told  tale  of  love  and  disappointment. 
'  J.  B.,'  the  donor  of  the  '  Token'  already  mentioned,  proved  to 
be  Joseph  Brown,  once  genuinely  attached  to  Sarah  Jane,  as 
she  to  him,  but  misunderstandings — foolish  enough,  no  doubt — 
had  sent  Joseph  off,  in  a  huff  and  a  hurry,  to  the  war  in 
Mexico.  From  the  date  of  his  farewell  letter — a  most  affecting 
document — it  appeared  to  be  about  a  year  and  a  half  since  his 
rash  flight;  but  to  poor  Sally  it  was  evidently  a  whole  epoch 
of  time ;  at  least  so  said  the  numerous  unsent  epistles  which 
the  drawer  exposed. 

"  After  supplying,  by  our  imagination,  all  the  missing  links 
in  the  drama  before  us,  we  taxed  our  brain,  like  good  knights- 
errant,  for  some  means  of  assisting,  or,  at  least,  of  consoling 
Sarah  Jane ;  without,  of  course,  betraying  any  knowledge  of 
her  hidden  story.  At  last,  we  struck  a  vein,  and  retired  to 
rest,  to  work  it  in  our  dreams. 

"  The  next  morning,  as  we  were  smoking  our  cigars  in  the 
little  dining-room,  and  watching  Sarah  Jane  as  she  cleared 
and  put  away  the  table  things,  I  expressed  to  my  companion  a 
wonder  as  to  the  whereabouts  and  doings  of  our  friend  Brown. 


LOVE'S  LABOUR  WON.  267 

"  Sarah  Jane  looked  up  as  I  spoke,  and  with  some  sign  of 
interest,  when  my  chum  replied,  carelessly: 

" '  What,  Joe  ?  Oh,  I  suppose  he  has  picked  up  some 
pretty  senorita  in  Mexico,  and  settled  down  to  domestic 
life.' 

"  '  Not  he !'  I  added.  '  Don't  you  remember  how  despe 
rately  in  love  he  was  with  some  girl  or  other,  here,  at  home?' 

"  '  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  very  well,  but  she  jilted  him ; 
flirted  with  a  rival  beau,  or  did  some  other  diabolical  thing! 
It  was  that  which  sent  him^off,  and  of  course  he  wouldn't  hurry 
back  on  her  account.' 

"Our  dialogue  had  won  so  suddenly  and  so  deeply  on 
Sarah  Jane's  attention,  that,  at  this  point,  the  cream-jug  fell 
from  her  hand  to  the  floor  with  a  fatal  smash ;  but  she  did  not 
observe  the  accident,  as  she  exclaimed,  with  eagerness  half  to 
herself,  and  half  to  us: 

"'He  deceived  himself!  I — she — the  girl,  I  mean,  didn't 
jilt  him,  or  flirt  with  somebody  else — that  is,  she  didn't  mean 
to,  and  he  ought  to  have  known  better!  I — the  girl,  I  mean, 
always  loved  him  better  than ' 

"  Here  she  paused  abruptly,  becoming  conscious  of  the  odd 
confidence  into  which  her  excited  feelings  were  betraying  her ; 
and  we,  to  release  her  embarrassment,  assured  her  that  our  Joe 
Brown  could  not  have  any  relation  whatever  to  her  friend's 
self-defended  truant. 

"  '  But  now  that  I  think  of  it,  he  may,  possibly,  be  the 
very  one,'  said  I,  when  Sarah  Jane  had  regained  her  usual 
composure.  '  I  have  heard  him  speak  of  the  Susquehanna  as 
his  native  river.' 

" '  Of  course,'  said  my  companion,  '  he  used  to  live  just 
about  this  very  neighbourhood !' 

"  '  What  sort  of  a  looking  man  was  he  you  are  thinking 
of?'  said  I  to  Sarah  Jane.  '  A  tall,  handsome  chap,  large  eyes, 


268  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

fine  nose,  curly  hair,  and  so-forth?'  describing  the  daguerreo 
type  we  had  found  up  stairs. 

"  '  Yes  !  yes,  exactly  !  His  hair  is  as  black  and  curly  as — 
as  it  can  be ;  he  has  very  black  eyes,  a  beautiful  mouth — but 
you  would  know  him,  in  a  minute,  by  a  large  scar  just  above 
his  right  eye.' 

"  '  Why  I'  I  exclaimed,  '  it  must  surely  be  our  very  friend 
Joe,  whom  we  met  at  New  Orleans  about  a  year  and  a  half 
ago.  He  was  just  such  a  man;  had  just  such  a  scar  on  his 
face!' 

"  '  Yes,  it  is  he !'  said  Sarah  Jane,  abstractedly. 

"  '  And  does  the  girl  he  was  engaged  to,'  I  asked,  '  love 
him  still?' 

"  '  O,  yes ;  I'm  sure  she  does ;  but  he  does  not  believe  it.' 

"  '  Well,'  said  I,  '  if  I  can  find  him  out,  I'll  take  care  that 
he  shall  believe  it.' 

"  '  0,  dear,  no !  not  for  the  world.  You  mustn't  do  any 
such  thing !  I — that  is,  she — wouldn't  have  you  tell  him  so 
for  anything.' 

"  At  this  moment  the  entrance  of  mamma  put  a  stop  to 
our  dialogue,  but  we  managed  to  renew  it  on  various  occasions 
during  our  few  days'  sojourn,  and  so  effectually  as  to  completely 
win  our  fair  friend's  simple  confidence,  even  to  the  frank  confes 
sion  that  she,  herself,  was  the  deserted  flame  of  the  misguided 
runaway.  We  became  so  much  interested  in  her  story  and 
character,  in  the  picture  she  drew  of  her  lover,  that  we  were 
perfectly  convinced  that  if  Brown  still  lived,  time,  and  a 
true  affection,  would  bring  him  back  again ;  and  we  mentally 
vowed  to  assist  time  in  this  process,  without  thinking  how 
unlikely  it  was,  that  we  should  find  any  means  of  effecting 
such  a  chimerical  design. 

"  In  this  conviction  and  purpose,  we  bade  good-bye  to  our 
pretty  friend,  with  words  of  hope,  and  with  assurances  that  all 


LOVE'S  LABOUR  WON.  269 

would  yet  be  well,   and  her  own  constancy  be  rewarded   by 
the  return  of  Joe  with  heart  as  true  as  ever. 


"  Weeks  slipped  away,  and  the  changing  incidents  of  travel, 
the  charm  of  new  adventures  and  new  acquaintance,  had  quite 
obscured,  if  not  obliterated,  the  memory  of  our  rencontre  with 
Sarah  Jane;  though  our  regard  for  her,  at  the  time,  was  sin 
cere  enough. 

"  Travellers  soon  learn  to  take  a  quick  and  personal  interest 
in  all  they  meet,  and  in  the  many  little  affairs  in  which  acci 
dent  may  for  an  instant  mingle  them.  And  happy  it  is  for 
them,  that,  denied  the  delight  of  continued  loves,  they  are  thus 
able  to  form  fleeting  ones ;  to  divide  among  many,  the  pen 
chants  they  are  by  circumstance  forbidden  to  bestow  only  on 
a  few.  Miserable  fellows,  indeed,  would  they  be,  could  they 
not  thus  carry  their  affections  with  them,  and  both  give  ,  and 
withdraw  their  loves  as  tune  and  place  command.  And  so  far 
from  this  disposition  being  a  sign  of  heartlessness,  it  is  the  best 
evidence  of  an  affectionate  nature  ;  showing,  as  it  does,  a 
necessity  of  love  and  sympathy,  superior  to  the  worst  obstacles 
to  its  manifestation.  Thus  was  it  with  ourselves :  though,  at 
the  moment,  we  would  have  given  our  whole  souls  to  serve 
Sarah  Jane,  yet  when  we  had  left  her,  we  found  another  Sarah 
Jane,  and  so  on,  happily,  forever. 

"  But  I  meant  to  give  you  a  story,  and  not  an  essay. 
Weeks,  I  have  said,  had  passed — months,  indeed ;  the  summer 
which  we  had  begun  on  the  head-waters  of  the  Susquehanna, 
was  now  waning,  finding  us,  to  be  sure,  still  on  the  shores  of 
the  giant  '  crooked  river,'  but  hundreds  of  miles  below  our 
starting  point.  Thus  far  our  journey  had  been  without  let  or 
hindrance,  but  at  the  moment  of  which  I  now  speak  we  were 


270  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

on  the  eve  of   an  adventure — an  adventure  very  unusual   for 
that  vicinity. 

"  We  were  on  foot,  as  we  had  been  most  of  the  season,  and 
being  anxious  to  reach  a  certain  point  before  halting,  were 
walking  longer  after  night-fall  than  was  our  custom.  Gener 
ally,  it  mattered  but  little  to  us  how  late  we  kept  the  road, 
but  on  this  occasion,  we  did  not,  through  some  influence  or 
other,  feel  quite  at  our  ease.  Since  dusk  we  had  felt  annoyed 
by  the  do'gged  pursuit  of  a  couple  of  gallows-looking  pedes 
trians  ;  and  the  moon,  who,  per  promise  of  her  calendar, 
should  have  been  our  friend,  hid  herself  suddenly  behind 
huge  banks  of  gloomy  black  cloud — making  the  forms  and 
faces  of  our  questionable  companions  more  unpleasing  than 
ever.  Yet  we  laughed  at  our  half-expressed  fear  of  an  attack 
from  them.  The  mere  idea  of  the  verdancy  which  would  seek 
to  rob  a  strolling  painter,  was  convulsive  in  its  drollery.  Then 
I  bethought  me  of  my  adventure  with  the  imaginary  highway 
men,  which  I  related  to  you  when  we  were  on  the  Ohio.  I 
was  inwardly  laughing  at  that  remembrance,  as  our  road  led 
us  into  the  depths  of  a  thick  copse,  which  stretched  for  some 
distance  along  the  river  bank.  I  had  barely  time,  as  we  en 
tered  its  gloomy  recesses,  to  call  the  notice  of  my  friend  to 
the  accelerated  approach  of  our  ugly  followers,  before  I  saw 
him  struggling  with  one  of  the  miscreants,  and  found  myself 
parrying  the  hearty  blows  of  the  other.  The  contest  was  very 
unequal  ;  they  were  heavy  stalwart  chaps,  and  we  were  par 
tially  disarmed  by  the  paraphernalia  of  our  travelling  baggage, 
sketch-boxes,  and  the  like.  We  were  beginning  to  chuckle 
over  the  coming  disappointment  of  our  assailants,  as  they 
should  explore  our  meagre  purses,  when  just  at  that  moment, 
the  faithless  moon  came  to  the  rescue,  shedding  a  flood  of 
light  upon  the  scene;  and  what  was  still  more  to  the  pur 
pose,  revealing  the  approach  of  yet  another  traveller.  The 


LOVE'S  LABOUK  WON.  271 

merest  glance  told  us,  as  by  instinct,  that  the  new-comer  was 
a  friend,  and  uttering  the  first  words  which  had  as  yet  been 
spoken,  we  called  upon  him  for  help.  A  few  lusty  whacks,  to 
the  right  and  left,  of  his  willing  staff,  aided  by  the  increased 
vigour  of  our  own  blows,  soon  did  the  business,  and  left  us  to 
watch  the  flying  retreat  of  our  assailants  with  a  feeling  of 
intense  satisfaction. 

"  We  were  then  within  a  mile  of  our  destined  halt,  and 
as  our  gallant  defender  was  also  looking  for  quarters,  we  per 
suaded  him  to  accompany  us,  and,  at  least,  be  our  guest  for  the 
night,  since  he  refused  other  acknowledgment  of  the  timely 
service  which  he  had  so  heartily  rendered  us.  To  this  he 
consented,  and  as  we  began  to  know  him  better,  over  our 
coffee  and  cakes,  we  were  glad  of  the  acquaintance  for  other 
reasons  than  his  late  good  aid ;  for  he  proved  to  be  one  of 
those  genial,  intelligent,  and  experienced  travellers,  whom 
fellow-voyagers  so  much  like  to  meet. 

"  Our  first  gossip,  of  course,  related  to  the  circumstances  of 
the  late  assault,  and  to  expression  of  surprise  that  such  an 
incident  should  have  happened  in  this  usually  quiet  and  secure 
region. 

" '  The  business  of  the  canals,'  said  our  strange  friend, 
'infests  the  country  with  gangs  of  lawless  foreigners,  who  -will 
use  any  safe  chance  to  better  their  beggarly  fortunes.  Yet, 
whoever  the  rascals  may  be,  I  am  vexed  that  such  an  outrage 
should  have  occurred  on  the  banks  of  old  Sus',  my  native 
river;  more  beautiful,  and  more  dear  to  me,  than  all  of  the 
many  greater  waters  I  have  seen.' 

"Here  he  entertained  us  with  reminiscences  of  the  Keuces, 
the  Eio  Grande,  the  Colorado,  and  other  streams  in  Texas  and 
Mexico,  from  which  countries  it  appeared  he  was  even  then 
returning;  but  every  few  sentences  would  bring  him  back  to 
the  winding  Susquehanna. 


272  THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

"  We  spoke  of  our  own  long  explorations  of  the  old  river, 
from  its  sources,  even  to  the  point  where  we  then  were. 

"  '  Ah  !'  said  the  stranger.  '  In  such  a  minute  journey,  you 
may  possibly  have  tarried  at  the  little  village  of  B .' 

"  '  0,  yes !  we  passed  some  very  agreeable  days  at  the  cozy 
inn  there.' 

" '  Indeed !  then  you  may  tell  me  some  news,  which  I 
should  like  to  hear,  for  I — I  once  spent  some  happy  hours 
there  myself.  Are  the  old  folks  of  the  inn — alive  and — well  ?' 

"  '  Jolly  as  need  be !'  we  answered,  '  at  least  they  were  so 
some  weeks  only  ago.' 

"  '  And  their  daughter — they  had  a ' 

"  '  O,  yes !  Sarah  Jane !  a  pretty,  clever  girl ;  though  silly 
enough  to  sigh  herself  to  sadness,  for  some  shabby  scoundrel, 
who  stole  her  heart,  and  then  deserted  her.  By  the  way,  we 
have  her  portrait  in  our  sketch-books.' 

"'Perhaps  you  will  let  me  see  it?'  said  our  new  friend, 
with  eager  interest. 

"  '  Certainly,'  we  answered,  and  diving  into  our  knapsacks, 
we  brought  forth  the  sketch. 

"  After  a  long  and  silent  contemplation  of  the  picture, 
which  was  a  capital  likeness,  he  turned  to  us,  saying :  '  You 
have  generously  offered  me  a  reward  for  the  slight  service  I 
have  had  the  luck  to  render  you  to-night — will  you  make  me 
the  debtor,  instead  of  yourselves,  by  giving  me  this  sketch?' 

"  '  With  the  greatest  pleasure,'  I  replied,  now  fully  satisfied 
of  a  fact,  which  the  last  few  moments  had  led  me  to  suspect, 
and  which  a  glance  showed  me  to  have  also  entered  the  noddle 
of  my  companion.  With  this  clue  once  given,  we  rapidly  re 
called  in  the  stranger's  face,  the  traits  of  the  daguerreotype  we 
had  found  in  Sarah  Jane's  drawer;  though  time  and  travel 
had  greatly  changed  his  appearance.  Still,  so  certain  were  we 
of  the  truth  of  our  surmise,  that  we  knew  as  much  before, 


LOVE'S  LABOUR  WON.  273 

as  after,  our  friend  had  told  us  that  his  name  was  Joseph 
Brown  ! 

"  I  will  not  fatigue  you  with  the  details  of  the  manner  in 
which  it  pleased  us  to  tell  Joseph  the  story  of  our  visit  to  the 
home  of  his  lady-love,  and  the  yet  more  welcome  news  of  her 
continued  affection  for  him ;  or  the  words  in  which  he  spoke 
to  us  of  the  unhappy  circumstances  which  had  made  him  an 
exile  from  the  heart  he  still  sighed  to  call  his  own.  Suffice  it 
to  say,  that  we  easily  persuaded  him  to  abandon  his  purpose 
of  never  more  seeing  Sarah  Jane ;  while  we  cautioned  him  to 
keep  the  secret,  for  a  while,  of  his  acquaintance  with  ourselves, 
beyond  a  plea  of  guilty — should  he  be  so  charged — of  casually 
meeting  us  in  New  Orleans,  at  the  commencement  of  his 
wanderings ! 

"  At  parting,  we  gave  Joseph  our  address  in  exchange  for 
a  promise  to  inform  us  when  our  '  love's  labour'  should  be  won. 
This  desired  intelligence  we  received,  not  long  after,  in  a  joint 
letter  from  Joseph  and  Sarah  Jane,  inviting  our  presence  at  a 
certain  interesting  ceremony ;  or,  in  default,  claiming  as  early 
a  visit  as  possible,  to  our  old  haunts  on  the  Susquehanna ;  the 
damsel  maliciously  added,  that  she  should  not  be  able  to  give 
us  her  own  little  boudoir  again,  seeing,  not  only,  that  it  would 
not  henceforth  be  a  '  spare-room,'  but  that  she  could  not  trust 
such  very  inquisitive  people  among  her  secrets !  This  sly 
allusion  to  our  impudent  curiosity  in  reading  her  letters — of 
which  Joseph,  the  ungrateful  dog,  had,  despite  his  promise, 
told  her — has  always  made  me  regret  the  many  occupations 
which,  to  this  day,  have  denied  me  an  opportunity  to  receive 
from  her  own  lips,  the  pardon  long  since  accorded  in  the  mes 
sages  which  I  continued,  and,  indeed,  still  occasionally  continue, 
to  receive  from  her." 

"  My  love  to  Sarah  Jane,"  said  Mr.  Brownoker,  replenishing 

his   glass,   and   passing  the   sherry   to  Megilp,   as  he  ended  his 
18 


274  THE  KOMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

romantic  anecdote.     "  The  next  time  I  go  that  way  I  will  give 

her  a  call." 

. 

"  And  I,  and  I,  and  I !"  added  the  rest  of  the  brotherhood, 
severally  and  collectively.  "And  here's  good  luck  to  Joseph, 
too !" 

"Sarah  Jane"  thus  disposed  of,  our  friends  were  about  to 
separate,  when  Professor  Scumble  unfortunately  alluded  to  a 
record  we  once  made  of  some  rather  amusing  incidents  which 
transpired  in  the'  Quaker  City;  and  which,  none  of  the  com 
pany  happening  to  know,  we  were  unanimously  called  upon 
to  rehearse. 

"  The  story,"  said  Mr.  Flake  white,  "  will  be  apropos  as  we 
halt  in  Philadelphia,  on  our  return  from  the  Susquehanna." 

We  objected  that  it  would  be  but  a  "  twice  told  tale ;"  but 
our  scruples  being  arbitrarily  overruled,  and  as  it  was  still  only 
the  "  edge  of  the  evening,"  and  something  was  needed,  pour 
passer  le  temps,  we  reluctantly  rummaged  over  our  old  manu 
scripts,  and  produced  the  following  account  of 


"  No !  I  tell  you,  I  will  be  a  match  for  her ;  I'll  play 
Petruchio  to  her  Katharine !  A  wife  usurp  my  prerogative ! 
take  the  ribbons  out  of  my  hands !  I,  Frank  Morton,  bow  to 
a  woman's  rule  !  Ha,  ha  !  droll — very — 'pon  my  soul — veiy 
droll — No  !  no,  ladies, 

"Cursed  be  the  man,  the  poorest  wretch  in  life, 
The  crouching  vassal  of  the  tyrant  wife : 
Who  has  no  will  but  by  her  high  permission  ; 
"Who  has  not  sixpence,  but  in  her  possession  ; 


MR.   BROWN'S  STRATEGY.  275 

Who  must  to  her  his  dear  friend's  secrets  tell ; 
Who  dreads  a  curtain  lecture  worse  than  h-11 ! 
Were  such  the  wife  had  fallen  to  my  part, 
I'd  crush  her  spirit,  or  I'd  break  her  heart  1" 

There,  you  have  the  sentiments  of  poor  Burns,  with  my  hearty 
endorsement.  I,  a  henpecked  husband !  Hercules,  an  infant — 
Leonidas,  a  coward — "Washington  a  traitor,  and  Mrs.  Macbeth  a 
saint !" 

"  Ha,  ha,  Frank !  you  may  talk  and  laugh  and  jest — you 
may  flatter  yourself  as  you  please,  but  it  won't  do,  brother 
mine ;  just  marry  Isadora  Cruston — marry  Isadora  Cruston — 
you'll  see " 

"  Yes,  marry  Isadora  I"  from  a  second  soft  voice ;  "  marry 
Isadora !  Isadora !  marry  Isadora !"  from  a  whole  host  of  fair 
lips — "  Isadora !  Marry  Isad " 

"  Tut,  tut,  tut  ladies  !  I  cry  you  mercy !  My  poor  ears  are 
only  flesh  and  blood !  You  are  all  prejudiced ;  all  wrong.  Isadora 
a  shrew !  preposterous !  as  I  will  prove  to  you — but  there  she  goes 
now,  past  the  window,  on  her  way  home !  I  must  join  her — • 
adieu,  ladies — may  you  never  find  in  a  husband  more  of  a  tyrant 
than  I  shall  have  in  Isadora  Cruston — au  revoir  /" 

"  Good  bye,  but  mark  us — marry  Isadora " 

"Again  farewell — I'm.  off!" 

"Isadora  Crus " 

"  Bah !" 

"Marry  Isado ah!    he's  off!" 

And  so,  dear  reader,  he  was  off,  and  by  the  side  of  the  fair 
belle  aforesaid ;  and,  of  course,  we  cannot  join  them  until  we 
become  better  acquainted  with  the  parties.  The  preceding  war 
of  jests  arose  from  a  slight  difference  of  opinion  between  Mr. 
Frank  Morton,  and  his  sister  and  other  fair  friends,  touching 
the  docility  of  his  lady-love,  Miss  Isadora  Cruston.  Isadora 
was  a  dashing  belle,  and  Frank  a  dashing  beau.  Isadora  had 


276  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

set  her  cap  for  Frank ;  and  Frank,  though  >he  had  escaped 
many  similar  snares,  had  very  stupidly  popped  his  silly  head 
therein.  Thus  Isadora  was  the  envy  of  all  her  fair  associates, 
who,  very  willingly,  vented  their  spleen  in  owlish  predictions 
for  the  future. 

Frank  had  long  remained  a  bachelor,  from  the  avowed 
fear  of  finding  only  a  termagant  in  a  wife ;  which  was,  of 
course,  a  gracious  compliment  to  the  many  who  were  ready  to 
prove  to  him  the  folly  of  his  doubts,  and  to  vindicate  the  char 
acter  of  their  sex.  In  Isadora,  he  fondly  hoped,  he  had  at  last 
found  the  ingenuous  and  confiding  creature  for  whom  his  heart 
yearned,  and  he  was  bent  upon  calling  her  his  wife. 

We  are  now,  perhaps,  sufficiently  intimate  with  the  be 
trothed  to  follow  them  into  the  parlour  of  the  lady's  mansion, 
which  they  were  not  long  in  reaching. 

Isadora  has  tossed  her  hat  to  her  obedient  lover,  but  why 
it  should  pass  through  his  hands  to  the  table,  he  does  not  pre 
cisely  comprehend.  Despite  his  desire  that  she  should  take  a 
seat  by  his  side  upon  a  sofa,  she  has  placed  herself  at  the 
piano,  and  has  summoned  him  to  turn  the  leaves  of  her  music- 
book,  a  task  which,  it  occurs  to  his  mind,  she  might  more  effec 
tually  perform  herself.  Yet  he  banishes  the  preposterous 
reflection,  and  begs  that  she  will  sing  for  him  the  pretty 
song,  "Thou,  thou  reignest  in  this  bosom." 

At  this  sentimental  demand,  the  gay  lady  bursts  into  an 
unconquerable  fit  of  merriment,  and  with  a  slight  sneer  re 
plies,  "  I  will  sing  something  quite  as  novel  and  more  sensible — 
listen !" 

"The  lords  of  creation  men  we  call, 
And  say  they  rule  the  whole  ; 
But  they  find  after  all,  whatever  they  do, 
They  are  under  woman's  control — ole — ole, 
They  are  under  woman's  control  !" 


MB.   BROWN'S  STRATEGY.  277 

Frank  thought  of  the  party  which  he  had  just  left ;  but, 
alas !  the  bewitching  eyes  of  the  fair  tyrant,  at  the  same  in 
stant,  met  his  own,  and  he 

""Was  under  woman's  control — ole — ole, 
He  was  under  -woman's  control  1" 

"Now  Frank,  is  not  that  much  more  rational  than  such 
worn-out,  lackadaisical  stuff  as  that  you  wish  to  hear  ?" 

"Why,  my  love,  I  don't  say  that " 

"  You  can't  say  I  why,  you  won't  allow  me  the  least  taste  in 
the  world!  You  used  to  praise  my  singing,  be  it  what  it 
might." 

"  Well,  my  love,  it  is  a  pretty  song — certainly  very  pretty ; 
indeed,  one  of  the  prettiest  I  have  ever  heard.  Every  thing  is 
beautiful  from  your  lips ;  sing  as  you  please,  I  would  still,  as 
Shakspeare  says,  have  you  ever  sing  so  I" 

"Oh!  very  gallant,  to  be  sure,  sir;  but  you  do  not  like  it, 
after  all.  You  have  no  sympathy,  no  appreciation  for  my 
tastes.  We  have  opposite  fancies  in  every  thing,  and  shall 
never  be  happy  together." 

"  Pardon  me,  Isadora,  if  I  have  unintentionally  offended 
you — I  did  not  think  to  do  so.  I  consider  your  taste  and  judg 
ment  to  be  always  and  in  all  things  faultless  and  infallible. 
But,  Isadora,  dearest — now  don't  be  angry — that  song  reminded 

me  of  what  they  were  saying  at  Mrs.  just  before  I  joined 

you  in  the  street ;  but,  pshaw !  that's  all  nonsense  ;  I'll  not 
repeat  it." 

"  Why,  Frank,  what  were  they  saying  about  me  ?" 

"Oh!    I'll  not  remember  it,  dear — 'tis  too  absurd!" 

"But  you  must  tell  me,  Frank!" 

"  No,  no,  dear — 'tis  too  silly." 

"But  I  will  hear  it." 

"Do  ex " 


278  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

"  Not  a  word !  You  excite  my  curiosity,  and  refuse  to  gratify 
it.  It's  just  like  you ;  you  have  no  regard  for  my  feelings.  You 
take  a  pleasure  in  teasing  me." 

"But  it  will  only  offend  you,  Isad " 

"You  will  offend  me  more  if  you  do  not  tell  me  directly. 
I  will  know  what  they  said." 

"  Well  then,  dearest,  if  I  must  repeat  it — they  hinted — they 
insinuated — ha,  ha,  ha,  only  think  of  the  idea — capital  joke,  'pon 
my  soul ! — they  suggested  that  you — you,  Isadora,  my  angel, 
would — would " 

"For  heaven's  sake  would  what,  sir?" 

"  Would  prove  to  be  a  very  queen  of  termagants !" 

"  Oh  !  the  slanderers — the  malicious  vilifiers  !  I  wish  I  could 
tear  their  eyes  out — I  do!" 

"Isadora!" 

"  And  you,  sir,  heard  it  all  patiently  and  smilingly,  and  did 
not  attempt  to  defend  me!  Oh!  dear;  why  did  I  ever  love 
such  an  unfeeling  creature !" 

"  Why,  to  tell  the  truth,  dear " 

"Don't  speak  to  me!  You  do  not  care  a  straw  for  me,  it's 
as  plain  as " 

"  Forgive  me,  love ;  the  truth  is,  as  I  was  going  to  say,  that 
I  thought  the  idea  too  absurd  to  be  angry  at  it ;  and,  besides,  I 
knew  they  were  only  jesting.  They  cannot  really  hold  such  a 
ridiculous  opinion  of  you,  any  more  than  I  do." 

"Well,  Frank,  I  will  believe  you  and  forgive  you,  on  one 
condition.  Promise  me,  on  your  honour,  not  to  go  there  again !" 

"  But,  Isadora,  that  would  be  foolish  and  unkind ;  they  are 
my  best  friends — they  are " 

"  The  slanderers  of  your  '  angel' — your  '  only  hope  in  life' — 
as  you  gallantly  call  her ;  yes !  sacrifice  me  to  your  dear  friends 
— do,  I  beg  of  you " 

"  Isadora,  you  attach  too  much    import  to   a  trifle ;    but  I 


MR.   BROWN'S  STRATEGY.  279 

cannot  refuse  you  anything — you  are  my  only  treasure — and  I 
promise " 

"Sacredly?" 

"Most  religiously,  dearest!" 

"Oh,  Frank!  it  is  now  my  turn  to  ask  forgiveness.  Now,  I 
know  that  you  do  indeed  love  me,  and  I  will  not  doubt  it 
again." 

"  We  will  then  forget  them  all,  dear ;  and,  for  the  atonement 
which  you  offer  me,  I  will  but  abridge  your  days  of  freedom  a 
little.  You  shall  prove  your  forgiveness  of  my  fault,  and  gain 
a  pardon  for  your  own,  by  a  speedy  appointment  of  our  bridal. 
You  know  that  you  have  half  promised  that  it  shall  be  next 
Thursday,  my  birthday ;  now  say  positively  that  that  shall  be 
the  happy  hour." 

"Thursday!  I'm  sure  I  did  not  say  Thursday!" 

"  But,  my  love,  that  is  an  interesting  time  to  you — my  birth 
day  ought  certainly " 

"  I  don't  like  Thursday ;  it  shall  be  the  next  day !" 

"  Friday,  Isadora !     But  that,  you  know,  is  an  unlucky  day." 

"  What  day  can  be  unlucky  which  crowns  your  most  earnest 
hopes.  It  shall  be  only  Friday." 

"  How  perverse  you  are,  Isadora." 

"  Yes !  every  thing  I  do  or  say  is  stupid." 

"I  mean — I  mean — I  was  only  jesting,  dear.  You  know 
best,  and  it  shall  then  be  Friday." 

"  No,  you  don't  like  Friday ;  you  say  it  is  unhappy,  and  you 
fear  the  results.  .1  won't  have  Friday!" 

"Well  then,  my  love,  Saturday." 

"  How  overbearing  you  are,  Frank,  to  be  sure.  Now  do,  for 
mercy's  sake,  let  me  have  my  own  way  in  this  matter,  at  least. 
It  shall  be  on  Monday  afternoon." 

"  Monday  ? " 


280  THE  ROMANCE    OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

"Yes,  sir;  Monday  afternoon,  and  no  other  time — that's 
decided;  so  don't  say  a  single  word  more  about  it." 

"Well,  dearest,  may  Leaven  then  hasten  and  bless  next 
Monday;  and,  Isadora,  dear,  we  will  be  married  at  eight  o'clock, 

and  at  nine  start  off  in  the  cars  for  B ,  as  you  proposed. 

You  see  I  let  you  make  all  the  arrangements." 

"  Eight !  I'm  sure  I  never  said  anything  about  eight  o'clock ; 
and  I  wouldn't  be  married  at  such  an  hour  for  the  world. 
Eight,  indeed !  how  could  you  think  of  such  a  thing,  Frank.  It 
shall  be  ten;  and  we'll  take  the  steamboat  for  C at  noon." 

"  Agreed,  dear ;  it  shall  be  ten,  that's  all  settled,  and  every 
thing  shall  be  quiet  and  private,  as  you  desire." 

"Private,  Frank!  What,  a  private  wedding.  Why,  Frank, 
I  vow  I  should  feel  that  I  was  going  to  be  buried !  Private, 
indeed,  I  never  said  anything  of  the  kind;  but  I  see  you  are 
determined  to  have  it  all  your  own  way." 

"I  only  thought,  dearest,  that  you  wished  it  to  be  so." 

"  No,  I  don't !  We  must  have  a  large  party,  and  every 
body  must  be  invited.  All  the  world  are  married  in  private, 
now-a-days;  but,  for  my  part,  I  think  that  a  wedding,  at  least 
one  like  ours,  should  be  accompanied  by  every  token  of  glad 
ness  and  joy." 

"So  it  should  be — and  so  it  shall  be,  love ;  and  the  whole 
world  shall  be  there !" 

"No;  I  don't  want  such  a  .jam  as  Ellen  Brown  had.  She 
says  she  wouldn't  go  through  it  again,  for  all  the  husbands  in 
creation.  We  will  only  have  a  very  select  number — very  few." 

"  Arrange  it  then,  my  love,  as  you  please.  Make  out  the  list 
of  names  and  I  will  help  you  with  the  cards.  But  now  I  must 
leave  you  for  a  while.  Business  you  know,  Isadora,  must  not 
be  neglected  even  for  love.  Good-bye — good-bye,  dear!  What 
a  preposterous  idea,  Isa,  that  of  Sydney  Brown  and  his  friends. 


MR.   BROWN'S   STRATEGY.  281 

We'll  soon  expose  their  folly — eh,  Isadora — ha,  ha,  ha!      Grod 
bless  you!" 

The  long  wished-for  Monday  at  length  arrived.  Ten  o'clock 
drew  near.  A  large  party  was  assembled  in  the  gay  parlours  of 
Mrs.  Cruston's  mansion;  among  the  guests,  were  all  the  friends 
of  the  lovers,  excepting  only  Mr.  Sydney  Brown,  who  to  the 
astonishment  of  every  body,  had  not  been  invited.  The  bridal 
ceremony  passed  off  happily  and  merrily,  and  Frank  Morton 
became  a  fated  Benedict.  Congratulations  and  kisses,  God-bless- 
yous  and  Heaven-protect-yous,  were  duly  exchanged ;  noon  came ; 
the  boat  was  ready ;  the  happy  couple  waved  farewell  mouchoirs 
to  waving  mouchoirs  upon  the  shore,  and  were  fairly  off,  on  a 

six  months'  bridal  tour  in  Europe. 

******* 

Six  months  were  with  the  Past;  during  which  many  varied 
events  had  happened;  such  as  hopes  delayed,  visions  fled,  and 
the  opposites  of  fears  dissipated,  and  joys  consummated ;  with  all 
other  appropriate  lights  and  shades  in  half  a  year  of  the  picture 
of  life.  Among  other  items,  and  which  is  more  interesting  to 
us,  at  this  time,  the  steamer  which  had  conveyed  our  friends 
to  Europe,  had  duly  made  her  appointed  trips  to  and  fro,  and 
was  now,  again,  dropping  anchor  at  the  wharf,  after  a  homeward 
voyage. 

Among  the  passengers  one  stood  apart,  listlessly  gazing  over 
the  bulwarks  of  the  vessel,  as  though  it  were  a  matter  of  life 
and  death  to  him,  to  arrive  at  an  exact  estimate  of  the  number 
of  bubbles  in  the  foaming  waters  below.  The  life  and  joy 
which  should  sparkle  in  the  eye  of  the  returning  exile,  dwelt  not 
in  his.  His  whole  air  was  sad  and  hopeless.  Neither  in  his 
toilet  was  there  visible  any  trace  of  the  care  and  taste  which 
it  was,  nevertheless,  very  evident  once  belonged  to  the  man. 
The  vessel  was  securely  moored  at  the  dock,  and  happy  greet 
ings  were  swiftly  flying  from  lip  to  lip,  of  long  parted  friends. 


282  THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

All  was  animation  and  joy,  excepting  only  with,  our  solitaire. 
He  still  mused  apart,  apparently  unconscious  that  his  native 
land  and  the  friends  of  his  heart  were  awaiting  his  recognition 
and  kindly  interchange  of  welcome.  During  his  continued  fit 
of  abstraction,  a  gentleman,  from  the  shore,  passed  and  re-passed, 
gazing  earnestly  in  his  face,  until  at  length,  stopping  abruptly 
before  the  muser,  he  seized  his  hand,  and  shaking  it  with  most 
commendable  heartiness,  exclaimed — "  I'm  sure  of  it  now !  'tis 
none  other  than  he!  Frank!  Frank  Morton,  my  old  boy,  how 
the  devil  are  you  ?  and  who  are  you  mourning  for,  with  '  the 
grief  which  passeth  show  ?'  for  though  you  look  as  though  the 
whole  world  and  his  wife  were  dead,  I  see  no  crapey  trappings 
about  you !" 

"  Wife — dead !"  exclaimed  the  muser,  as  the  words  of  the 
speaker  gave  voice  to  his  thoughts;  and  then  perceiving  the 
presence  of  the  stranger,  the  clouds  fled  from  his  brow,  and  he 
cordially  returned  his  salutation,  exclaiming — 

"Ah!  Sydney,  is  that  you!  the  first  to  welcome  me  home. 
I  am  glad,  very  glad  of  it,  for  you  are  my  best  friend,  and 
your  presence  calls  back  the  memory  of  more  joyous  days." 

"Thank  you,  Frank!  that's  a  kind  speech,  and  I'll  take  it 
in  atonement  for  the  scurvy  trick  you  played  rne,  in  cutting 
me  so  unaccountably  at  the  time  of  your  marriage." 

"Say  no  more  about  that,  Sydney.  It  was  not  my  fault; 
indeed  it  was  not.  She " 

"0!  certainly,  my  dear  boy!  I  thought  your  neglect  con 
foundedly  queer,  to  be  sure,  but  I  put  it  all  down  to  the  effect 
of  some  cursed  misunderstanding  or  other,  which,  however,  I 
concluded  to  let  you  enjoy  all  to.  yourself.  I  see  we  are  now 
friends  again,  though ;  so  let  it  go.  What's  the  good  of 
obscuring  present  sunshine  with  the  sour  shadows  of  the  past. 
I  was  expecting  you  back  about  this  time,  the  happiest  dog  in 
the  kennel  of  life,  but  I  see,  confound  it,  that  your  dog-days 


MR.   BROWN'S  STRATEGY.  283 

are  fading.  Come,  discuss  unto  me ;  make  a  clean  breast  of  it, 
and  I'll  help  you  out  of  the  scrape.  Trouble  always  flies  from 
my  footsteps;  hates  me  like  poison — out  with  it,  Frank,  out 
with  it!" 

"  Ah !  Sydney,  I  see  that  you  are  the  same  merry,  joyous 
fellow  as  ever.  To  meet  you,  makes  me  happy  again." 

"'Happy  again,'  Frank!  Why,  have  you  been  otherwise? 
Is  she  dead?" 

"Oh!  no,  no — come  nearer — speak  low — you  remember  our 
conversation  on  that  morning ?" 

"Aye,  to  be  sure!  I've  said  the  same  things  so  often  that  I 
cannot  forget  them.  They  are  part  of  my  creed.  But  how  is 
that  confab  apropos  of  the  change  which  appears  to  have  come 
over  the  spirit  of  your  dream?  There's  the  mystery!  I  can 
hardly  believe  that  I  see  before  me,  the  same  dashing,  hopeful, 
devil-may-care  Frank  Morton,  whom  I  knew  in  other  days! 
But  that  conversation!  Kemember  it!  Why,  I  am  still  a 
jolly  old  bachelor;  ha,  ha,  ha!  Eemember  it,  aye! 

'Cursed  be  the  man,  the  poorest  wretch  in  life, 
The  crouching  vassal  of  the  tyrant  wife!' 

It's  my  morning  and  evening  devotion,  Frank!  My  elixir,  my 
shield,  my  everlasting  buckler,  the  cosmetic  which  preserves 
me  as  I  am;  jolly  and  fat  as  an  alderman,  and  smiling  as  a 
danseu&el  yes — • 


'Cursed  be  the  man,  the 


"Stop,  Sydney!   for  heaven's  sake,  stop!     Don't  curse  we/" 

"Eh!   you!    no!      By   the   gods!    I — I — no,   you're  joking; 

aye,    you're  joking?     You   don't  mean —    By  the   powers!     I 

smell   a  mouse!     Was  I  right?   am  I  right?  ha,  ha,  ha,  hold 

me!   hold  me!     'Tis  too  rich!" 


284  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

"Alas!  alas!  My  dear  friend,  you  have  divined  but  too 
truly;  be  generous  though,  and  spare  me,  I  pray  you,  your 
bitter  raillery." 

"Spare  you,  my  poor  deluded  lamb!  It's  enough  to  kill  me 
with  laughter,  ha,  ha,  ha!  It's  too  funny,  Frank,  for  sympathy, 
but  I'll  help  you  out  of  the  scrape — I'll  help  you  out,  old 
fellow!" 

"You  will!" 

"To  be  sure!  there's  my  hand!" 

"It's  of  no  use,  Sydney;  it's  too  late;  the  die  is  cast.  I 
thank  you  for  your  good  will,  but  there  is,  alas,  no  help  for  it 
now.  She  is — is — in  short — why  should  I  hesitate  to  confess  it? 
I  shall  not  be  at  home  a  week  before  all  the  world  will  know 
it  as  well  as  myself — she  is  a  perfect  shrew — a  termagant — a 
devil!" 

"  I  knew  it,  Frank,  before  you  spoke  it.  Ha !  ha !  my 
beauteous  Isadora.  I  read  more  than  the  title-page  of  your 
disposition,  which  I  am  sorry  my  poor  friend  did  not " 

"  Gently,  Sydney !     She  will  hear  us." 

"Let  her  hear,  Frank;  she  shall  hear  and  see  and  feel  more 
yet;  I  tell  you  I'll  manage  the  business!" 

"Are  you  in  earnest,  Sydney?  I  know  you  can  do  any 
thing." 

"Of  course  I  can;  I'll  fix  it;  I'll  cure  her;  she  shall 
become  a  very  pattern  of  gentleness,  meekness,  and  obedience." 

"  Alas  !    my  friend,   you  are   not  a  Hercules." 

"Have  not  quite  so  much  muscle  certainly;  but,  let  me 
alone — I'll  borrow  a  trifle  of  his  'kinted  wit.'  If  I  can't 
cleanse  these  Augean  stables  of  termagantism,  I  will  rig  up  an 
Euphrates  to  dash  through  them.  By  Jupiter!  It  will  be  a 
glorious  little  piece  of  work,  worthy  of  my  genius.  Be  hopeful, 
Frank;  I'll  soon  make  a  rattling  among  the  dry  bones,  I 
promise  you!  Let's  drink." 


MR.   BROWN'S  STRATEGY.  285 

"Hush,  Sydney!  Here  comes  Isadora's  maid.  "Well,  Jane, 
what  does  your  mistress  want?" 

"If  you  please,  sir,  she  says  that  you  have  been  lounging 
up  here  long  enough,  and  that  you  must  come  into  the  cabin 
directly." 

"Oh!  ye  gods  and  little  fishes!"  muttered  Sydney — "do 
my  ears  deceive  me!" 

"Be  quiet,  my  dear  Sydney,"  interposed  the  husband;  and 
then  turning  to  the  maid,  he  added,  "  Tell  Mrs.  Morton  that  I 
will  be  down  directly." 

"The  devil  you  will!"  interrupted  the  other,  and  then,  ad 
dressing  himself  to  Jane,  "tell  Mrs.  Morton  that  her  husband 
is  conversing  with  his  old,  cherished  friend,  Mr.  Sydney  Brown, 
and  cannot  possibly  oblige  her  at  present.  Mr.  Sydney  Brown, 
remember,  my  dear." 

"No,  no,  Sydney,  that  will  never  do.  It  will  be  the  death 
of  me.  Jane !" 

But  Jane  was  off. 

"Frank,  my  boy,  you  must  remember  that,  live  or  die,  I 
undertake  this  only  upon  one  condition  ;  that  you  leave  it  all 
to  my  discretion,  and  pledge  yourself  solemnly,  to  second  me 
boldly,  heartily,  and  implicitly,  in  every  individual  item  of  my 
plan.  What  say  you?" 

"  Sydney,  you  are  a  master-spirit.     I  am  yours !" 

"  Good !  signed  and  sealed.  Now,  while  Mrs.  M.  is  digesting 
your  palatable  message,  let  us  go  down  below  and  drink  to  victory 
or  death.  Aliens,  my  old  buck.  Nil  desperandum,  as  the  Latins 
have  it;  'Time,  faith,  and  energy,'  as  Bulwer  echoes  it;  and 
'  Never  do  to  give  it  up  so,  Mr.  Brown,'  as  I  always  say 
myself." 

The  return  of  the  Mortons  was  the  signal  for  a  long  series 
of  visits,  congratulations,  gossipings,  confabs,  and  merry-makings, 
throughout  the  extensive  circle  of  their  acquaintance.  Old  beaux 


286        THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

and  flirts  were  eager  to  offer  their  sighs  again  at  the  shrine  of 
the  former  queen  of  their  reunions,  and  antiquated  belles  were 
curious  to  observe  how  she  bore  her  matronly  dignities.  The 
younger  of  both  sexes  swelled  the  fetes,  for  their  own  individual 
and  mutual  satisfaction,  little  regardful  of  their  hosts.  To  the 
latter,  therefore,  every  thing  was,  of  course,  just  as  it  should  be. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  M.  were  charming  people,  and  they  felt  excessively 
obliged  to  them  for  making  such  a  pleasant  sensation  in  the 
town.  But  to  the  former  classes,  affairs  appeared  in  a  quite 
different  light;  yet,  if  possible,  even  more  gratifying  to  them 
than  to  the  others.  Both  beaux  and  belles  soon  had  the  intense 
satisfaction,  the  supreme  delight,  of  discovering  that  what  they 
had  predicted,  what  they  had  hoped,  if  the  truth  must  be  told, 
had  come  to  pass.  Our  poor  friend  Frank  was  the  "  immolated" 
on  either  side;  since  the  belles  felicitated  themselves  with  the 
idea  that  he  was  punished,  for  his  preference  of  Isadora ;  and 
the  beaux,  that  they  were  revenged  for  the  gay  lady's  preference 
of  him.  This  grand  discovery  soon  became  the  general  theme 
of  converse.  Incalculable  quantities  of  whisperings,  disettes,  and 
scandal,  were  floating  about.  The  gentlemen  shrugged  their 
shoulders,  with  a  knowing  smile,  at  the  singular  change  in  the 
humour  of  their  old  friend,  and  feared  as  much.  The  ladies  were 
not  blind — not  they — they  saw  plainly  enough  how  matters  stood, 
and  had  always  predicted  it.  Indeed,  to  sing  the  song  in  short 
metre,  the  public  settled  quietly  and  confidently  down  in  the 
faith,  that  Miss  Isadora,  the  celestial  Isadora  Cruston,  had  turned 
out  a  veritable  Xantippe ;  and  that  the  gallant,  the  cynical,  the 
matchless  Frank  Morton  was,  unequivocally  and  incorrigibly,  a 
henpecked  husband! 

But  the  most  singular  phase  in  the  phenomenon,  was  that 
Frank,  the  once  high-souled  and  haughty  Frank,  did  not  in  the 
least  degree  revolt  against  the  domestic  despotism  under  which 
he  was  crushed ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  seemed  to  take  delight  in 


MB.   BKOWN'S  STRATEGY.  287 

bending,    with,   studied   submission,  to   the  iron   rule.     This  hu 
mility,  in   a  man   of  Mr.   Frank   Morton's  former  temper,  was 
strange  indeed ;  and  to  all,  excepting  to  Mr.  Sydney  Brown,  who 
claimed  to  know  a  thing  or  two,  was  most  unaccountable.     When 
bantered  by  his  friends,  Frank  took  all  in  good  part,  and  listened 
incredulously  to  the  propositions  of  resistance  which  were  made 
to  him,  as  though  they  were  the  mere  dreamings  of  a  disordered 
imagination.     At  such  moments,  however,  his  friends  occasionally 
detected  a  lurking  smile  in  his  eye,  which  but  quadrupled  their 
perplexity.      Isadora  had    also    noted,  with    anxious    curiosity, 
Frank's   strange   obedience  to  her  slightest  will,  both  in  public 
and   private ;  and  the  mysterious   smile   which  his  friends  had 
observed,  created   double    alarm    in    her  mind.     The   deference 
which  he  carefully  paid  to  her — his  naive  appeals  to  her  superior 
judgment,  which  he  invariably  made,  in  all  topics  of  conversation, 
in  public  or  private,  whether  the  theme  was  a  lady's   toilet  or 
the  policy  of  States,  the   confection   of  a  cake    or  the  solution 
of  a  geometric  problem,   the  government   of  a   nursery  or  the 
discipline   of  an   army — both   annoyed   and  terrified  her.     The 
position  conceded  to  her  became  embarrassing ;  her  crown  weighed 
upon  her  brow ;  her  sceptre  wearied  her  hand,  and  she  felt  that 
she  had  assumed  a  power  which  she  was  incompetent  to  wield. 
Neither  was  it  from  her  husband  alone,  that  she  received  these 
exaggerated   tokens   of  respect  and   devotion.     All   his   especial 
friends,  those  who  had  once  been  ever  ready  to  fling  back  hei 
sarcasm  and  her  sneer,  now  aided  in  canonizing  her.     Even  the 
incorrigible  Sydney  Brown  was  submissive  with  the  rest.     Had 
she  detected  but  the  slightest  symptom  of  irony  in  the  exalted 
respect  of  her  friends,  all   would  have  been  well ;   but  it  was 
offered  with  such  an  immaculate  air  of  sincerity  and  truth,  that 
she  was  compelled  to  receive  it,  with  the  best  grace  she  could 
assume.     Bay  after  day,  she  felt  more  keenly  the  painfulness  of 
her  position ;  to  which  was  added,  the  perception  she  at  length 


288  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

had,  of  the  ridiculous  place  her  husband  held  in  the  household. 
She  was  a  proud  woman,  and  a  slave  to  conventional  law.  She 
had  only  desired  to  govern  through  him,  and  not  in  her  own 
name.  The  usages  of  society  demanded  this  nominal  authority, 
but  Frank  had  rejected  it,  and  publicly  assumed  the  rank  he 
really  held.  Nay,  he  studied  to  make  his  debasement  even  lower 
than  it  really  was.  He  directed  his  correspondents  to  address 
him  to  the  care  of  Mrs.  Morton,  and  the  lady  had  received 
several  letters  addressed  to  herself  which  were  evidently  written 
to  him ;  while  he  occasionally  sent  her  a  sheet  which  had  been 
directed  to  Mr.  Morton,  but  very  clearly,  was  addressed  to  her. 
Frank  could  not,  or  would  not,  explain  to  her  the  meaning  of 
all  this.  When  bills  were  sent  to  his  house,  he  referred  them 
to  Mrs.  Morton.  He  had  even  run  up  an  account  at  her  jewel 
ler's,  which  was  presented  to  her  for  payment ;  nay,  more,  he 
affected  the  character  and  airs  of  a  lady;  carried  a  parasol 
in  the  streets,  and  an  embroidered  cambric  in  his  hand ;  rode 
horseback  sideways,  and  flirted  desperately  with  his  admirer, 
Sydney  Brown ! 

These  little  vagaries  became  so  frequent,  and  were  often 
times  so  extravagant,  that  the  dear  public  began  to  think  our 
hero's  afflictions  had  turned  his  brain ;  that  he  had  been  ac 
tually  henpecked  into  madness.  Isadora,  when  she  recollected 
his  natural  humour,  and  the  melancholy  change  her  tyranny 
had  really  made  in  it,  at  times,  fearfully  admitted  the  same 
terrible  thought.  Then  again,  when  she  recalled  the  message 
which  Mr.  Sydney  Brown  had  sent  to  her,  from  her  husband, 
on  the  day  of  her  return  to  her  native  land,  and  the  intimacy 
which  had  since  be'en  renewed  between  Frank  and  that  gentle 
man,  her  fears  gave  place  to  rage,  in  the  reflection  that  there 
might  be  "method  in  his  madness!"  This  last  idea  was  not 
sustained  by  the  fact  that  Mr.  Brown  humoured  all  his  eccen 
tricities  ;  since  that  amiable  gentleman  had,  as  a  friend,  hinted 


MR.   BROWN'S  STRATEGY.  289 

to  her  his  belief,  that  her  husband's  imagination  had,  from 
some  unaccountable  cause,  become  deranged,  and  had  begged 
her  permission  to  lend  that  seeming  assent  to  his  fancies,  which 
the  case  imperatively  required. 

As  time  passed  on,  her  husband's  singular  affliction  appear 
ing  to  have  somewhat  abated,  Isadora  determined  to  resume 
the  place  in  the  gay  world  which  she  had  partially  abandoned. 
She  was  the  more  ready  to  do  this,  as  Frank  himself  had  sug 
gested  it ;  and  at  his  desire  she  had  resolved  to  give  a  dinner 
party,  to  which  she  conceded  to  him  the  sole  privilege  of 
inviting  the  guests.  This  concession  was  made,  not  merely 
to  humour  him,  which  she  would  have  gladly  done  though,  to 
any  extent,  in  the  hope  of  making  him  again  what  he  once 
was — but  she  was  tired  of  her  usurped  power,  and  sighed  only 
to  resign  it,  and  reinstate  her  husband  in  all  his  rights. 

In  preparing  the  cards  for  the  coming  fe'te,  Frank  proved 
himself  very  reasonably  sane,  carefully  selecting  only  the  tried 
friends  of  his  family  ;  those  in  whom  he  could,  in  all  things, 
place  the  utmost  confidence.  Inasmuch  as  the  affair  had  been 
left  wholly  to  his  direction,  Isadora  was,  nevertheless,  not  a 
little  mortified  and  surprised,  to  learn,  on  the  very  day  of  the 
dinner,  that  the  invitations  had  been  sent  to  every  one 
in  her  name,  instead  of  her  husband's.  From  this  inci 
dent  she  augured  a  recurrence  of  his  idiosyncrasy;  which 
fear,  as  the  dinner  hour  approached,  was  greatly  increased, 
and,  finally,  fully  confirmed.  As  the  guests  began  to  assemble, 
the  fair  lady  was  horrified  by  a  characteristic  query  from  Frank, 
which  proved  that  he  again  looked  upon  himself  as  the  mis 
tress,  instead  of  the  master,  of  the  house. 

"  Frank,  my  love,"  said  he,  "  since  I  left  the  whole  of  this 

affair  to  your  pleasure,  I  hope  that  you  have  invited  all  your 

friends,    not    even    excepting    Sydney   Brown.     I   certainly   do 

not  like   Mr.   Brown   very   much   myself,    but   since  he  is   the 

19 


290  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

cherished  friend  of  my  husband,  I  shall  be  always  happy  to 
receive  him  as  such.  It  is  no  less  my  pleasure  than  my  duty, 
dear  Frank,  to  study  your  happiness  before  my  own,  in  all 
things.  I  have  sacredly  pledged  you  my  love  and  obedience, 
and  I  will  never  belie  my  promise." 

"Frank!"  exclaimed  the  bewildered  and  angry  Isadora, 
"•what  does  this  nonsense  mean?  Are  you  really  a  fool,  or 
do  you  wish  to  insult  me?" 

"  My  dear  husband,"  returned  Frank  with  a  kind  and  gentle 
smile,  "since  it  is  your  pleasure  to  call  me  by  your  own 
dear  name,  I  cannot  object  to  it;  nor  will  I  complain  of  any 
other  strange  cognomens  you  may  give  me.  I  can  bear  any 
thing  from  or  for  you,  patiently  and  cheerfully. 

"Frank;!"  interrupted  the  bewildered  wife,  "do,  for  heaven's 
sake — for  my  sake,  cease  this  foolery,  and  go  down  to  receive  the 
guests.  They  are  all  arriving,  and  no  one  in  the  drawing-room!" 

"My  guests,  my  dear!  I'm  sure  I  did  not  invite  them,  and 
besides,  you  know  that  I  have  to  dress  for  dinner — would  you  not 
like  me  to  wear  my  new  silk,  with  the  beautiful  point  lace " 

Here  our  hero  was  interrupted  in  his  toilet-speculations,  by  the 
abrupt  and  maddened  departure  of  Isadora,  who  seeing  no  hope  of 
making  her  husband  conscious  of  his  duties,  hastened  down  stairs 
to  welcome  her  friends,  and  to  make  an  apology  of  sudden  indispo 
sition  for  Frank. 

The  excuse  was  of  course  sufficient,  and  every  thing  went  on  in 
all  apparent  harmony,  until  dinner  was  announced,  and  the  guests 
were  preparing  to  move  to  the  salon-a-manger.  At  this  instant,  to 
the  utter  astonishment  of  the  party,  and  to  the  entire  petrifaction 
of  Isadora,  the  invalid  host  entered  the  hall,  in  a  complete  suit  of 
lady's  apparel !  He  (or  she)  greeted  the  assembly  with  infinite 
grace,  and  hoped  that  Mr.  Morton  had  given  them  all  a  cordial 
welcome,  and  made  her  excuse  for  her  own  tardy  appearance.  He 
then  took  the  proffered  arm  of  his  cavalier,  Mr.  Sydney  Brown,  and 


MR.   BROWN'S  STRATEGY.  291 

leading  the  way,  was,  as  by  a  spell,  followed  by  all  to  the  table, 
where  he  seated  himself  on  Isadora's  chair  and  pointed  her  to 
the  one  he  himself  usually  occupied ! 

She  mechanically  obeyed  the  gesture,  but  when  Frank 
called  upon  her  to  pronounce  the  blessing,  she  could  bear  it 
no  longer— and  recalling  her  scattered  senses,  and  a  share  of 
her  accustomed  self-possession,  she  made  a  motion  for  the  ban 
quet  to  proceed,  and  addressing  the  party,  hoped  that  the  ab 
surd  scene  they  were  witnessing  would  be  forgiven,  since  her 
poor  husband  had  long  been  somewhat  out  of  his  mind,  and 
was  now  evidently  insane.  . 

Mr.  Sydney  Brown,  in  pursuance  of  the  permission  which 
he  held  from  Isadora,  lent  himself  fully  to  the  wild  humour  of 
his  host ;  gallantly  paying  him  all  sorts  of  compliments,  and 
carrying  it  so  far  as  directly  to  address  Isadora,  now  and  then, 
as  Mr.  Morton. 

"Shall  I,"  said  he  at  one  moment,  gaily  bowing  to  Frank, 
"have  the  honour  of  taking  wine  with  my  fair  hostess?"  and 
then  turning  to  Isadora,  he  added,  "my  friend  Frank,  you 
are  backward  to-day  in  good  example ;  faith,  your  glass  has 
not  yet  been  touched!" 

At  another  instant,  he  commence^  a  sentence  to  Frank 
touching  a  lady's  opera  costume,  and  finished  it  to  Isadora, 
with  a  remark  upon  the  probable  results  of  the  next  Presi 
dential  election.  Then  again,  he  accused  Frank  of  stealing 
away  the  hearts  of  all  the  beaux ;  but  told  Isadora  she  well 
repayed  the  theft,  by  his  own  notorious  flirtations. 

How  long  this  odd  scene  might  have  continued  we  know 
not,  had  not  a  light  suddenly  burst  upon  Isadora's  mind,  as 
glancing  at  her  husband,  she  detected  the  often  observed, 
equivocal  smile  upon  his  lip ;  and  at  the  same  moment,  upon 
that  also  of  Mr.  Sydney  Brown. 

The  scenes  of  the  past  few  weeks,  and  the  sequel  of  to-day, 


292  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

was,  as  by  magic,  explained  to  her.  A  deep  blush  of  shame 
covered  her  face,  and  she  burst  into  an  uncontrollable  fit  of 
tears. 

"Frank!"  she  exclaimed,  amidst  her  sobs  of  mingled  shame 
and  rage,  "  why  am  I  subjected  to  this  outrage  ?  What  means 
this  cruel  farce?" 

"It  means,  madam,"  said  Frank,  now  gravely  rising  and 
speaking  in  his  wonted  tone  of  pride  and  command,  "that 
you  have  so  long  abused  my  love,  in  usurping  my  authority, 
that  I  have  resolved  to  gratify  you  to  the  top  of  your  bent, 
and  resign  the  shadow  with  the  substance ;  to  abandon  to  you 
the  outward  form  of  rule,  since  you  have  taken  the  spirit 
of  it.  I,  therefore,  formally  make  over  to  you,  before  these 
witnesses,  every  portion  of  my  wardrobe,  while  I,  in  return, 
shall  beg  the  use  of  yours !  In  short,  madam  you  will  now 
make  choice  of  one  or  the  other ;  either  to  take  upon  your 
self  my  entire  duties  in  the  household,  or  totally  resign  your 
usurped  and  ill-placed  authority,  and  become  as  a  wife  should 
be — modest,  gentle  and  obedient !" 

"Spare  me!  oh!  forgive  me!"  cried  the  conquered  Isadora, 
falling  at  his  feet.  "The  punishment  you  have  inflicted  upon 
me  is  only  just — and  yet  it  is  cruel — oh!  too  cruel!  I  have 
long,  dearest  Frank,  felt  my  error  and  sighed  to  retrieve  it. 
The  lesson  you  have  taught  me,  is  bitterly  completed  to-day. 
It  is  so  stricken  in  my  heart,  that  it  can  never  be  forgotten. 
Forgive  me!  and  I  promise  you  by  the  solemn  vow  I  once 
pledged  you,  to  become,  henceforth,  all  your  brightest  dreams 
could  ever  have  shown  you  in  a  wife!" 

"  Ah,  my  Isadora !  once  again  my  own  loved  Isadora !" 
cried  the  now  really  crazy  Frank,  as  he  raised  his  repentant 
wife  and  clasped  her  to  his  breast,  "Oh!  bitterly  now, 
should  I  regret  the  severe  measures  I  have  used,  but  for  the 
wonderful  and  happy  results!  Oh!  Isadora,  you  are  well  for- 


MR.   BROWN'S  STRATEGY.  293 

given — but  can  you  ever  pardon  me,  and  our  good  friend  too?" 
he  added,  placing  her  hand  in  that  of  Sydney  Brown,  who 
stood,  for  once  in  his  life,  embarrassed  by  the  strangeness  of 
his  position. 

This  mauvaise  honte  vanished,  as  Isadora  kindly  pressed  his 
hand,  and  in  a  sweet  voice,  pronounced  his  pardon  and  her 
thanks.  Sydney,  sinking  upon  his  knee,  pressed  the  fair  fin 
gers  to  his  lips,  and  sacredly  promised  never  again  to  flirt 
with  Frank,  if  the  sacrifice  should  even  break  his  heart ! 

When  all  explanations  had  been  duly  made,  mutual  par 
dons  granted,  and  the  felicitations  of  friends  offered,  Frank 
addressing  the  assembly,  said — 

"The  role,  which  you  now  know  me  to  have  been  long 
playing,  has,  thank  God,  been  eminently  happy  in  its  denoue 
ment.  I  have  taken  care  that  none  should  witness  this  painful 
scene,  but  well  tried  friends,  in  whose  honour  I  have  perfect 
reliance,  and  I  must  now  exact  a  solemn  promise  from  all,  to 
keep  the  incidents  of  to-day  forever  sacred  as  the  grave." 

"No,  no!"  interposed  Isadora,  "the  world  knows  my  fault, 
and  it  is  but  just  that  they  should  witness  its  punishment." 

"I  will  not  accept  so  hard  a  penance,"  returned  Frank. 
"Let  them  know  only  the  results.  My  good  friend  Sydney, 
whose  genius  alone  has  accomplished  these  glorious  effects, 
will  know  best  how  to  complete  hia  work." 

*  *  *  *   '  *  # 

Once  again  the  good  good  people  of were  taken  by 

surprise.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Morton  were  never  to  be  seen  but 
together,  each  as  gay  and  joyous  as  in  the  merry  days  of 
their  courtship.  Whenever  allusion  happened  to  be  made  to 
the  metamorphosis,  Frank  looked  with  a  smile  of  pity  and 
triumph  upon  the  querist,  which  seemed  to  establish  the  very 
common  report,  that  the  scandal-loving  public  had  been  the 
egregious  dupes  of  the  inveterate  wag  and  bitter  satirist,  Frank 


294  THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

Morton,  who,  with  the  assistance  of  his  equally  satirical  Isa 
dora,  had  so  long  successfully  played  the  part  of  the  Hen 
pecked  Husband!  Their  envious  friends  were  compelled  to 
swallow  this  bitter  pill  of  chagrin,  when  even  the  hitherto 
invincible  Sydney  confessed  that  his  friend  Frank  had  at  last 
done  him  Brown! 


CHAPTER    XIY, 

"GENTLEMEN,"  said  the  chairman,  "as  we  gathered  for  the 
last  time  around  our  social  board,  we  are  happily  completing 
our  pleasant  labours,  just  as  the  returning  summer  is  calling 
us  forth  again  to  the  actual  enjoyment  of  those  out-of-door 
beauties,  with  which  we  have  so  long  been  delighting  ourselves 
in  memory  and  in  fancy. 

"With  a  hasty  visit,  to-night,  to  the  charming  landscape  of 

the    Eastern    States,    we   must  close   our   discursive   pilgrimage, 

and  shake  hands,  with  the  hope  that  our  recollections  may  give 

as  much    pleasure   to    our    readers,   as    they    have    afforded    to 

'  ourselves. 

"  We  have  lingered  amidst  many  lovely  scenes  in  our  grand 
tour  of  the  Union,  but  none  more  beautiful  than  those  we  have 
yet  to  look  upon,  among  the  noble  hills,  and  valleys,  and  lakes 
of  brave  and  gallant  New  England.  It  is  a  very  easy  and 
very  remunerative  labour  to  travel  here,  where  the  facilities 
of  locomotion  are  so  great,  and  where  every  step  offers  some 
object  of  interest  and  beauty  in  physical  nature  or  in  social  life. 
Throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  this  region  we  shall  every 
where  meet  pleasant  scenes  and  pleasant  people.  The  only 


296  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

difficulty  is  to  determine  where  to  begin  our  rambles,  where 
so  many  things  divide  our  love.  Perhaps  we  had  better  each 
discourse  of  his  favourite  haunts,  while  we  all  remember  that 
our  especial  theme  is  the  natural  beauty,  and  not  the  social  or 
industrial  characteristics  of  this  country.  I  esteem  this  caution 
necessary  here,  where  we  may  be  so  much  tempted  to  linger 
in  the  thousand  charming  •  homes  and  villages,  or  among  the 
innumerable  temples  of  ingenious  toil." 

"  Suppose  then,"  said  Mr.  Megilp,  "  we  commence  with  Maine 
as  the  largest,  if  not  the  most  attractive,  link  in  Yankeedom. 
With  your  permission,  Mr.  Chairman,  I  will  take  the  rugged 
old  Lumber  State  for  my  share  in  your  proposed  'partition.' 
I  have  a  fancy  for  the  wild  solitudes,  yet  left  to  us,  in  her 
primitive  forests,  and  along  her  rocky  and  islanded  coasts.  I 
love  to  linger  amidst  the  thickly-wooded  passages  of  her  moun 
tain  brooks,  and  to  meditate  upon  the  lonely  summits  of  her 
great  hills — great  even  in  their  proximity  to  the  more  famous 
heights  of  New  Hampshire.  You  should  stand,  as  I  have  often 
done,  upon  the  stern  crown  of  old  Katahdin,  or  upon  the 
crest  of  Sugar-Loaf,  and  look  out  over  the  unrivalled  pano 
rama  of  hills,  and  valleys,  and  lakes  innumerable ;  or  you 
should  explore  the  yet  untrodden  recesses  of  these  valleys 
and  waters,  where  you  may  alike  abundantly  gratify  both  your 
passion  of  artist  and  hunter.  And  then,  too,  there  is  still  a 
world  of  beauty  in  reserve,  along  the  wild  courses  of  her 
noble  rivers,  the  Kennebec  and  the  Penobscot.  I  advise  some 
of  you  to  pitch  your  tents  next  summer  among  the  beauties 
of  this  too-much  neglected  region." 

"  It  is  of  but  little  use,"  said  Mr.  Yermeille,  "  to  direct 
the  tourist  thither,  however  well  his  journey  ings  may  repay 
him,  while  he  can  revel,  so  much  more  at  his  ease,  among 
the  still  greater  charms  to  be  seen  in  the  famous  hill  and 
lake  districts  of  the  Granite  State.  Who  wants  to  toil  up  the 


THE  EASTERN  STATES.  297 

wearisome  ascent  of  Katahdin  while  he  can  ride  comfortably 
to  the  nobler  height  of  Mount  Washington,  and  gaze  upon  a 
panorama  of  hill  and  vale  reaching  even  to  the  far-off  sea. 
Can  Moosehead  or  Umbagog  rival  the  mirrorring  beauties  of 
Winnipissiogee  and  Squam;  or  does  Maine  offer  a  parallel  to 
the  stupendous  pass  of  the  Notch  in  our  White  Hills ;  or  has 
she  sweeter  brooklets  than  the  white-crested  Ammonoosuck  and 
Pemigewasset  ?  The  stone-face  of  the  venerable  Old  Man  of 
the  Mountain,  gazing,  from  his  rocky  heights,  over  his  en 
chanted  domain,  would  take  a  yet  more  flinty  aspect,  were 
we  to  question  the  supremacy  of  his  claims  to  the  first  rank 
in  the  noble  landscape  of  New  England." 

"It  were  vain,"  said  Mr.  Flakewhite,  "to  deny  that  New 
Hampshire  is  unsurpassed  in  the  magnificence  of  her  moun 
tain  scenery :  and  yet  there  are  aspects  of  Nature  here,  which 
delight  me  more.  Such  are  the  gentler  scenes  which  we  find 
everywhere  along  the  valleys  of  those  beautiful  rivers,  the 
Housatonic  and  the  Connecticut.  This  softer  landscape,  while 
it  does  not  strike  .the  eye  so  vividly,  yet  fills  the  heart  more 
surely  and  more  enduringly.  It  is  a  region  in  which  you 
may  contentedly  dwell,  not  for  a  day,  but  for  ever:  since  it 
commands  the  beautiful  in  Nature,  with  all  the  supplies  and 
comforts  of  life.  Here,  while  pursuing  your  daily  toils,  you 
may  drink  in  the  delights  of  inspiriting  scenery,  and  always 
and  insensibly 

" 'See  and  hear 

The  lovely  shapes  and  sounds  intelligible 
Of  that  eternal  language  which  thy  God 
Utters ;  who  from  eternity  doth  teach 
Himself  in  all  things,  and  all  things  in  Himself ; 
Great  Universal  Teacher  1     He  shall  mould 
Thy  spirit^  and  by  giving  make  it  well.' 

I    once,    with    some    pleasant    companions,    made    a    pedestrian 


298  THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

tour  through  the  valley  of  the  Housatonic,  entering  it  at  the 
cozy  village  of  Old  Stockbridge,  and  lingering  among  its 
chiefest  beauties  in  Berkshire.  On  the  way,  we  made  a  slight 
detour  to  that  happy  cluster  of  lakes,  in  western  Connecticut, 
of  which  the  "Washinee  and  the  "Washining,  or  the  Twin-Lakes, 
are  the  centre. 

"  But  the  nobler  Connecticut  opens  to  us  a  yet  richer  land 
scape  of  the  same  class:  a  landscape  so  admirable,  indeed, 
that  it  has  no  peer  in  all  the  land.  The  finest  and  most 
characteristic  part  of  the  Connecticut,  lies  about  midway  from  its 
source  among  the  hills,  on  the  Canadian  borders,  to  its  entrance 
into  Long  Island  Sound — stretching  above,  from  Northampton 
to  Brattleboro',  and  below,  to  Springfield.  South  of-  Springfield 
the  waters  flow  through  a  pleasant  and  densely  settled,  yet 
comparatively  low  and  unattractive  country ;  while  north  of 
Brattleboro'  both  the  river  and  the  valley  grow  narrow  and 
rugged,  presenting,  more  and  more,  the  usual  aspect  of  moun 
tain  streams.  Northampton,  and  its  neighbourhood,  presents  a 
most  charming  picture  of  plenty  and  comfort  in  its  luxuriant 
meadows,  and  cozy  homesteads,  and  is  at  the  same  time  sur 
rounded  by  the  boldest  hill-features  of  the  Connecticut.  Here 
we  may  look,  from  a  hundred  varying  points,  upon  the  rocky 
face  of  Mount  Tom,  or  upon  the  acclivities  of  his  confrere, 
bold  Holyoke.  Both  these  fine  elevations  come  admirably 
and  effectively  into  all  the  views  from  the  valley  levels;  but 
they  owe  their  wide  fame  to  the  surprising  panorama  seen 
from  their  summits.  Turn  our  gaze  as  we  will,  from  the  top 
of  Mount  Holyoke,  and  we  everywhere  see  vast  sweeps  of 
cultivated  meadow,  and  interminable  chains  of  distant  hills. 
Beautiful  villages,  with  their  soaring  church  spires,  rise  thickly 
around  us,  and  the  gleaming  river,  in  its  winding  flight,  leads 
our  delighted  eye  far  away  to  the  peaks  of  the  Green  and 
the  White  Mountains." 


THE  EASTERN  STATES.  299 

"  How  gay,"  said  Professor  Scumble, 

"'How  gay  the  habitations  that  bedeck 
This  fertile  valley!     Not  a  house  but  seems 
To  give  assurance  of  content  within, 
Embosom'd  happiness,  and  placid  love; 
As  if  the  sunshine  of  the  day  were  met 
By  answering  brightness  in  the  hearts  of  all 
Who  walk  this  fa vour'd  ground!'" 

"  Beautiful  as  is  the  country  around  Mount  Holyoke," 
continued  Mr.  Flake  white,  "I  will  not  say  there  are  not  more 
charming  scenes  still  beyond :  indeed  my  memory  recalls,  at 
this  moment,  no  glimpses  of  the  Connecticut  valley  more 
pleasing  than  sundry  views  commanded  by  the  Poet's  Seat,  a 
bold  precipice  near  Greenfield;  at  Vernon  also,  and  at  Deer- 
field,  Brattleboro',  and  Bellows  Falls,  there  is  a  world  of 
interest  in  the  ever-varying  panorama." 

"This  is  a  venerable  region,"  said  the  chairman;  "some 
of  the  towns  of  this  valley  are  as  old  as  the  first  settlements 
of  N^ew  England.  Northampton,  for  instance,  young  and  rosy 
as  it  looks  to-day,  was  born  full  two  hundred  years  ago.  No 
wonder  then,  that,  like  many  other  portions  of  the  Eastern 
States,  it  contrasts  so  vividly  with  newer  and  rougher  parts  of 
the  Union." 

"  It  abounds,  also,"  said  Mr.  Asphaltum,  "  with  bloody  tra 
ditions  of  Indian  warfare.  Everywhere  the  traveller  is  reminded, 
by  tale  or  tablet,  of  some  trying  adventure  in  the  history  of 
our  sturdy  ancestors.  At  Deerfield,  there  is  a  marble  monu 
ment,  commemorative  of  the  fatal  ambuscade  in  1675,  when 
the  savages  waylaid  and  murdered  a  company  of  eighty-four 
gallant  youths,  the  flower  of  the  settlement." 

"  There  is  one  important  division  of  our  subject  which  we 
have  not  yet  touched,"  said  Mr.  Blueblack,  "  and  it  claims  very 
respectful  consideration,  I  assure  you,  even  after  the  visit  to 


300  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

New  Hampshire  and  the  Connecticut.  I  speak,  of  course,  of 
the  hills  and  valleys  of  Vermont — of  the  meadows  which  lie 
along  the  shores  of  Lake  Champlain,  overlooking  those  great 
waters,  and  the  greater  chains  of  the  Adirondack's  spurs  beyond 
— of  the  fair  vale  and  stream  of  Winooske,  and  the  proud 
crests  of  Mansfield  and  the  Camel's  Hump.  The  views  from 
the  tops  oi  these  great  mountains  will  well  repay  the  toil  of 
ascent;  and  the  .waters  of  the  Winooske,  pleasing  in  their 
whole  flow  of  forty  miles,  from  the  capital  to  the  lake,  are, 
in  many  places,  of  exceeding  interest :  there  is  much  of  beauty, 
too,  found  in  the  tributary  brooks.  The  Huntington  river 
contains  some  fine  ravine  passages  near  its  entrance  into  the 
Winooske,  at  Jonesville.  In  addition  to  the  pleasures  of  a. 
charming  landscape,  Vermont  will  introduce  you  to  one  of  the 
most  agreeable  and  hospitable  of  the  Yankee  populations.  In 
their  sturdy  independence  and  general  intelligence,  you  will  find 
strong  traces  of  the  honest,  manly  spirit  of  their  Aliens  and 
Starks,  of  times,  happily,  gone  by." 

"  You  will  scarcely  believe  it,"  said  Mr.  Brownoker,  "  but 
I  made  my  first  excursion  down  East,  only  last  summer.'  In 
view  of  all  I  have  heard  of  'steady  habits,'  blue-laws,  liquor- 
laws,  and  the  gravity  of  Plymouth  Kock,  I  set  forth  with  much 
fear  and  trembling,  afraid  that  I  should  find  myself  a  very 
black  sheep  in  the  flock :  but  I  soon  breathed  more  freely, 
when  I  discovered  that  I  had  not  got  into  such  an  extremely 
'serious  family'  after  all.  To  be  sure,  on  my  first  'Sabbath,' 
— there  is  no  Sunday  in  New  England — my  landlord  solemnly 
proffered  me  '  a  pew  in  meeting ;'  but,  then,  to  make  amends,  in 
the  afternoon,  his  daughters — merry  lasses,  and  mischievous  as 
Satan — invited  me,  on  the  sly,  to  accompany  them  in  an  'huc 
kleberry'  excursion  'over  the  hills  and  far  away.'  My  host 
himself,  I  afterwards  found  out,  notwithstanding  that  he  shaved 
very  clean  and  had  a  'family  bible  that  lay  on  the  stand,' 


NEW  ENGLAND  HABITS.  301 

could  swear  like  our  army  in  Flanders ;  but  he  always  piously 
qualified  his  oaths  by  saying  (in  parenthesis,  and  with  virtuous 
suavity),  '  to  speak  after  the  manner  of  men.'  Thus — '  I  was  so 
darned  riled,  Mr.  Brownoker,  that  I  told  the  infernal  scoundrel 
to  go  to  h —  heaven!  speaking,  you  know,  after  the  manner 
of  men.' 

"  Though  the  immortal  Maine  Law  had  just  gone  into  opera 
tion,  and,  like  a  new  broom,  might  be  expected  then,  if  ever, 
to  work  thoroughly,  nowhere  could  I  innocently,  and  in  good 
faith,  demand  a",  glass  of  innocuous  '  soda,'  without  being  myste 
riously  conducted  into  a  retired  apartment,  and  having  an 
obnoxious  decanter  thrust  under  my  afflicted  nose. 

"Altogether,  I  soon  learned  that,  despite  the  decorous  exte 
rior  which  the  good  folks  wore,  through  long  and  general  habit, 
not  hypocrisy,  they  were,  no  more  than  others,  in  any  way 
'  too  virtuous  for  cakes  and  ale :'  that  they  were  still  sufficiently 
'  of  the  earth,  earthy,'  and  possessed  of  a  goodly  modicum  of  the 
leaven  of  evil — a  very  essential  alloy  to  the  '  cardinals'  in  the 
production  of  the  pure  coinage  of  human  sympathy  and  love." 

" '  Creatures  not  too  bright  and  good 
For  human  nature's  daily  food,' " 

said  Scumble,  approvinglyl 

"  Yes,  men  and  women,  the  world  over,  are,  au  fond,  pretty 
much  the  same,"  continued  Mr.  Brownoker,  with  a  gravity  of 
manner  worthy  of  the  chair,  "despite  the  disguising  incrusta 
tions  with  which  education  and  circumstances  may  enwrap 
them.  'From  Greenland's  icy  mountains  to  Afric's  burning 
strand,'  and  'all  intermediate  landings,'  the  geology  of  the 
human  heart  is  the  same.  Everywhere  we  detect  the  same 
identical  strata,  though  the  surface  may  -vary  much.  Strong 
passions,  both  good  and  evil,  slumber  under  the  cold  phlegmatic 
exterior  of  New  England,  no  less  than  beneath  the  lighter 


302  THE   ROMANCE  OP  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

upper  soil  of  the  tropics.  Now  and  then  these  latent  fires 
flarne  up  through  the  heaviest  superincumbent  mass,  as  they 
did  once  upon  a  time  gloriously  at  Bunker  Hill,  and  Lexington, 
and  Concord,  and  Bennington,  as  they  still  occasionally  do, 
most  ingloriously,  in  the  fanaticism  of  an  abolition  riot.  I  once 
'assisted'  in  a  playful  ebullition  of  the  hidden  'Satan,'  on  the 
part  of  a  merry  group  of  Yankee  matrons — most  grave  and 
reverend  matrons — the  light  and  delight  of  the  staid  community 
in  which  they  dwelt.  The  occasion  was  the  anniversary  festival 
of  a  mock  society  of 


"  I  was  a  guest  in  a  spacious  New  England  hotel,  which, 
with  its  outbuildings,  was  the  Alpha  and  Omega  of  a  great 
town  that  was  to  have  been,  but  had  not  as  yet  found  leisure 
to  be.  It  was  a  wayside  house,  famous  for  its  attractions, 
especially  to  brief  excursion  parties,  in  all  the  country  round; 
and  being  a  railroad  station,  conveniently  equidistant  from  two 
considerable  cities,  it  was,  of  course,  much  frequented. 

"  Every  pleasant  summer-day  brought  to  its  liberal  table,  its 
cordial  hospitality,  and  its  surrounding  natural  beauties,  smaller 
or  larger  parties  of  gay  visitants:  now,  a  graceless  squad  of 
lawless  collegians,  and,  again,  tender  pairs  of  cooing  doves, 
who  set  but  little  store  by  the  groaning  boards,  but  very 
properly  appreciated  the  moonlight  in  the  groves  and  glens, 
and  on  the  silvered  waters  of  the  neighbouring  lake. 

"  We  had  our  own  quiet  fan  out  of  all  these  pleasant 
occasions,  but  they  seemed  scarce  worthy  of  our  enjoyment; 
when  our  landlord  announced  to  us  the  approaching  visit  of  a 
large  party,  formed  of  the  ladies,  the  married  ladies  alone,  of 
the  vicinage. 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS.  303 

"  It  was  a  droll  association,  as  we  learned  from  our  host, 
formed  of  the  first  matrons  of  the  region,  who  once  a  year 
threw  aside  the  conventional  shackles  which  chain  them  to 
their  parlour  walls,  and,  asserting  their  independence, .  go  off 
on  a  '  bust,'  '  after  the  manner  of  men.' 

"The  spiteful  rain — as  though  the  elements,  too,  maliciously 
joined  in  the  oppression  of  the  injured  sex — poured  down  in 
such  unmitigated  torrents,  on  the  day  appointed  for  the  novel 
visit,  that  we  had  but  little  hope  of  the  affair  coming  off  at 
all.  But  we  did  injustice  to  the  metal  of  the  fair  amazons. 
When  the  expected  hour  came,  there  came  the  headlong  loco 
motive' with  an  extra  shriek,  and  there,  too,  came  the  promised 
guests,  pouring  gaily  out  of  the  cars  by  dozens — as  bewitching 
a  fairy-guard  as  your  fancy  could  fashion. 

"As  they  debarked  in  their  neat  travelling  dresses,  made 
without  any  reference  to  uniformity  of  cut  or  colour,  the  only 
thing  remarkable  about  them  at  the  moment,  beyond  their  gay 
flow  of  animal  spirits,  was  their  number,  unsprinkled  with  pan 
taloons;  though  I  learned  afterwards  that  they  had  well  sus 
tained  their  assumed  freedom  on  their  journey  down :  two  of 
the  youngest  and  prettiest  having  entirely  discomboberated  a 
couple  of  meek  young  gentlemen  by  gallantly  offering  the  new 
and  unprovided  comers  their  own  comfortable  seats;  and  others 
having  taken  up  quarters  in  the  baggage-cars,  that  they  might 
indulge  in  their  favourite  luxury  of  a  cigar. 

"  The  ladies  bestowed  a  cordial  greeting,  as  they  landed, 
upon  '  the  Judge,'  our  host,  and  were  so  gracious  to  the  Judge's 
son,  a  budding  youth,  who  piqued  himself  upon  his  manliness 
and  his  moustache,  that  starch  could  not  save  him  for  an 
instant.  One  fair  belle  was  ahead  of  me  in  picking  up  a  hand 
kerchief,  which  I  happened  to  let  fall,  and  which  she  politely 
presented  to  me  with  a  patronizing  smile,  and — 'You've  dropped 
your  cambric,  my  dear !'  I  simpered  and  blushed  properly,  and 


304  THE   ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

the  lady  laughed  gaily  as  I  answered,  with  a  bashful  curtsey, 
'Thank  you,  sir,  you  are  very  kind  I'  Then  the  free  and  easy 
air  with  which  they  roamed  over  all  parts  of  the  establish 
ment,  from  the  bar-room  to  the  stables,  and  made  love  to  the 
sterner  sex,  was  edifying  enough  to  gentlemen  possessed  of  very 
high  teeth,  but  deplorably  annoying  to  would-be  bucks,  who 
still  needed  the  watchful  eye  of  mamma.  It  was,  however,  not 
until  the  late  supper- hour,  that  the  spirit  of  the  occasion  was 
thoroughly  developed. 

"  A  bountiful  table — one  of  the  Judge's  own  famous  boards 
— had  been  provided,  and  the  ladies  having  fasted  long  beyond 
their  accustomed  quiet  tea-time,  sat  down  with  a  gusto  which 
they  usually  display  only  in  the  pantry  or  at  '  lunch,'  when  the 
gentlemen  are  all  'down  town.' 

"Starting  with  the  soup,  in  a  sprighly  genial  humour,  the 
convive's  grew  more  and  more  enthused  at  each  succeeding  course, 
when,  if  the  last  piece  of  pudding  did  not  do  the  business  for 
them,  as  it  did  for  gentle  'Charles,'  the  wines  and  cigars — very 
mild  brands,  both — which  soon  followed,  certainly  did.  Each 
passing  toast  was  rapturously  greeted  and  eloquently  answered, 
amidst  a  hurricane  of  'hear,  hears!'  and  the  clapping  of  pretty 
hands  and  stamping  of  little  feet;  but  it  was  the  final  senti 
ment  which  brought  out  the  soul  of  the  table,  the  'nine  groans 
and  a  tiger,'  and  the  master-speech  of  the  night. 

"When  this  last  supreme  aspiration,  'The  Gentlemen — the 
d — 1  take  them !'  was  uttered  from  the  Chair,  the  uproar  grew 
inconceivable,  and  it  was  a  long  while  before  the  voluble 
tongue  of  Mrs.  0.  K.  could  be  distinguished  amidst  the  mar 
vellous  din  of  voices. 

"'Ladies!'  cried  that  fervid  apostle  of  progress,  when  chaos 
was  at  length  caged,  '  as  I  listen  to  the  noble  sentiment  which 
has  just  been  announced,  and  turn  my  swollen  eyes,  red  with 
sorrow,  over  the  wrongs  of  our  sex,  upon  the  soaring  crest, 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS.  305 

yonder,  of  Camel's  Hump — (hear,  hear !) — yes,  ladies,  I  say 
Camel's  Hump  ! — (renewed  cheering) — Camel's  Hump,  ladies ! — 
I  wonder  that  the  indignant  mountain  does  not  fall  upon  and 
crush  our  oppressors! — (immense  applause,  and  cries  of  'Scratch 
their  eyes  out !') — We  have  borne  it,  ladies,  long  enough — too 
long.  In  the  unanswerable  language  of  that  noble  instrument, 
the  great  charter  of  our  holy  national  liberties,  we  have  pe 
titioned,  we  have  remonstrated,  we  have  done  all  that  women 
can  do — who  dares  do  more  is  none!  There  is  no  longer  time 
to  talk — the  crisis  has  come,  and  we  must  act — "act  in  the 
living  present,  heart  within,  and  Grod  o'erhead!" — (deafening 
cheers). — Flesh  and  blood  can  bear  no  more !  Why,  my  be 
loved  sisters — why,  I  ask  you,  and  I  pause  for  a  reply — why 
should  not  we,  like  our  arrogantly  self-styled  lords  and  masters — 
(deep  groans  and  bitter  sneers) — get  our  crowns  smashed  at  the, 
ballot-box,  that  bulwark  of  freedom! — (cries  of  'Why,  why!')~ 
Why  should  we  not,  like  them,  fight  for  our  country's  rights 
on  one  leg  and  with,  one  arm,  when  the  others  are  gloriously 
gone ! — ('  Why  not !'  from  all  parts  of  the  house.) — Why  should 
we,  too,  not  be  rocked,  through  sleepless  nights,  on  the  quiver 
ing  spar  washed  by  the  waves  of  the  ocean ! — (increasing  ap 
plause). — Why  should  we  not  grow  strong  in  the  fresh  air,  fol 
lowing  the  plough!  Why  must  we  be  for  ever  and  ignomi- 
niously  set  up  as  shrines  of  worship,  sheltered  from  all  the  cares 
and  dangers  and  toils  of  life,  doomed  inexorably  to  no  higher 
fate  than  thoughtlessly  and  lavishly  to  spend  our  husbands' 
money,  while  they  alone  enjoy  all  the  delights  and  excitement 
of  making  it!  Why  should  we,  too,  not  go  on  benders,  and 
be  jolly,  as  at  this  moment,  and  get  home  in  the  morning, 
with  rosy  noses  and  aching  heads !  But  I  weary  you,  ladies ! — 
(terrible  applause,  and  loud  cries  of  '  Go  on !') — I  might,  indeed, 
go  on  for  ever,  and  then  begin  again,  so  appalling  is  the  fearful 
picture  which  shocks .  my  terror-stricken  sight !  But  I  need  not 
20 


306  THE   ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  LANDSCAPE. 

say  more — mj  feeble  tongue  is  not  required!  The  fearful  sub 
ject  will  speak  for  itself,  in  its  still,  small,  but  omnipotent 
voice,  until  the  hills  shall  echo  with  its  mighty  story,  and  the 
floods  of  the  great  deep  take  up  the  resounding  tale! — (inde 
scribable  excitement). — It  shocks  me — in  the  language  of  the 
poet — 

"To  think  that  earth  should  be  so  fair, 
So  beautiful  and  bright  a  thing ; 
That  nature  should  come  forth  and  wear 
Such  glorious  apparelling ; 
That  sea,  earth,  sky,  should  live,  and  glow 
With  light,  and  love,  and  holiness, 
And  yet  man  never  feel  or  know 
How  much  a  God  of  Love  can  bless- 
How  deep  his  debt  of  thankfulness" 

to  woman,  the  patient,  living  author  of  his  very  life,  the 
radiant  jewel  without  which  that  life  would  be  but  a  worthless 
casket — woman,  the  last,  and  most  perfect  work  of  heaven — 
woman,  the  angel  of  light,  bringing — ' 

"  Here  the  speaker's  voice  was  irremediably  drowned  in  a 
continuous  and  indescribable  shriek  of  applause,  and  she  sunk, 
like  the  maestro  Jullien,  exhausted  to  her  seat. 

"The  party  was  to  return  by  the  night-train,  which  passed 
late  in  the  small  hours.  Before  their  departure,  they  sent  for 
the  Judge,  to  be  kissed,  in  behalf  of  his  sex,  as  Louis  Napoleon 
embraced  the  prettiest  of  an  immense  deputation  of  washer 
women,  in  the  name  of  the  whole.  I  proposed  to  be  the 
modest  Judge's  substitute,  but,  after  a  hot  debate,  was  thrown 
out,  on  the  score  of  my  not  being  a  married  man !  However, 
as  a  consolation  and  a  mark  of  their  esteem,  they  elected  me, 
by  acclamation,  an  honorary  member  of  their  charming  so 
ciety. 


MEGILP'S  SLIGHT  MISTAKE.  307 

"  The  cars  came  at  last,  and  the  ladies  ended  their  frolic, 
and  went  back  to  their  pleasant  homes  once  again — " 

"  'To  suckle  fools  and  chronicle  small  beer,'" 

said  Scumble,  finishing  the  sentence. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  chairman  at  this  point,  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  merry  comments  upon  the  graphic  "  report"  of  Mrs. 
O.  K.'s  famous  speech,  "  though  this  is  our  very  last  meeting, 
and  we  ought  of  right  to  linger,  like  Mr.  Brownoker's  notable 
ladies,  until  '  daylight  doth  appear,'  yet  you  must  remember 
our  engagement  at  the  '  Century,'  and  time  waits.  Besides,  we 
have  already  given  our  host  more  rigmarole  than  his  book  will 
hold ;  if  we  feed  him  any  longer  with  such  succulent  '  copy' 
lie  will  grow  entirely  too  plethoric  for  the  paper-makers." 

"  Don't  be  in  a  hurry,"  said  Mr.  Megilp ;  "  it's  only  ten 
o'clock,  and  when  shall  we  all  meet  again  ?  Stay  a  few  minutes 
more  to  hear  a  brief  stage-coach  adventure  of  mine  in  the  land 
of  -notions.  It's  the  history  of  a  slight  mistake,  which  may 
serve  you  both  as  a  warning  and  as  a  valediction." 

"  Well,"  said  the  chairman,  "  I  '  capitulate'  to  the  few  min 
utes  you  require,  but  be  sure  that  you  rein  up  when  they  are 
expired." 

"  O,  certainly,"  cried  everybody ;  "  plenty  of  time  !  of  course 
we  can't  avoid 


"  The  coach,"  said  Mr.  Megilp,  "  drove  up  to  the  piazza, 
where  I  was  awaiting  its  arrival,  as  the  darkness  of  a  mild 
August  night  was  growing  too  dense  to  be  visible. 


308  THE   ROMANCE   OF   AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

"  My  cigar  being  unfinished,  I  jumped  upon  the  box  with 
the  driver,  whom  I  found  to  be  so  agreeable  an  old  fellow  that 
I  lighted  and  puffed  pipe  after  pipe,  in  merry  chat,  until,  the 
air  growing  a  little  chilly,  I  bethought  me  to  get  inside. 

"'Not  a  bad  idea,'  said  Jehu;  'there's  an  all-fired  nice 
girl  in  there !' 

"'The  deuce  there  is!'  said  I;  'why  did  you  not  tell  me 
before,  you  old  ass?' 

"'Because,'  said  Jehu,  with  a  provoking  grin,  'I  supposed 
you  would  prefer  my  beautiful  society  !' 

"  '  Pshaw !'  said  I,  as  the  machine  held  up,  and  I  leaped 
to  the  ground. 

"  Sure  enough,  just  as  the  driver  had  said,  there  was  a 
bundle  of  neglected  beauty  nodding  on  the  back  seat,  but  of 
what  style,  whether  blonde,  brown,  or  brunette,  it  was  quite 
too  dark  to  tell. 

"  I  established  myself  alongside,  but,  after  various  futile  at 
tempts  at  talking,  found  the  lady  too  sleepy  therefor.  I  nodded 
too,  until  a  jolt  aroused  me  from  love's  young  dream,  but  only 
to  make  me  nod  again,  when  I  found  the  innocent  head  of  my 
companion  gracefully  pillowed  upon  my  shoulder.  Bless  her 
dear  little  heart !  I  thought,  travelling  all  alone  by  herself ; 
and,  the  better  to  protect  her  gentle  slumbers,  I  kindly  wound 
my  arm  about  her  pliant  waist.  Then  I  dreamed  again,  and 
again  awoke,  and  afraid  that  the  fair  one  might  not  yet  be 
sufficiently  comfortable,  I  drew  her  still  nearer  to  me — and  I 
am  not  so  certain  that,  in  some  of  the  many  jolts,  our  lips  did 
not  occasionally  meet! 

"  Thus  it  went  on  until  something  frightened  the  horses 
into  a  run,  which  upset  the  entire  concern,  at  the  sharp  corner 
of  a  small  house,  much  nearer  than  it  ought  to  have  been  to 
the  roadside.  The  impersonation  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  was 
abruptly  ended  by  this  untoward  accident.  In  the  confusion 


MEGILP'S  SLIGHT  MISTAKE.  309 

of  the  moment,  I  had  jumped  unconsciously  out  of  the  coach, 
and  as  soon  as  my  scattered  senses  came  home,  I  snatched  a 
light  from  the  hands  of  one  of  the  people  of  the  house,  and 
began  to  look  about  for  the  lady,  quite  unheedful  of  the 
dolorous  cries  of  an  old  coloured  woman,  who  was  screaming 
that  her  'neck  was  clear  broke!' 

"  '  Blast  your  neck !'  I  cried,  pushing  her  aside,  as  I  rushed 
to  the  coach.  '  Good  heavens,  she's  not  here,  she's  nowhere ! 
We  must  have  spilt  her  out  on  the  road !' 

"  '  She's  all  right !'  said  the  driver,  with  a  sardonic  laugh. 

"  '  All  right !  how  ?' 

"  '0  yes,  sir;  thank  you,  sir;  don't  be  frightened!  It's  only 
my  poor  neck  that's  broke !'  said  the  squalling  black  Phillis 
aforesaid. 

"  '  O,'  said  I,  as  the  terrible  truth  dawned  upon  my  be 
nighted  mind,  '  0,  you  are  the  lady,  are  you  ?  he,  he ;  yes, 
yes ;  ah  yes ;  it's  all  right.' 

"  '  All  right !'  echoed  Jehu,  when,  having  put  the  establish 
ment  on  its  pins  again,  and  the  lady  in  her  seat,  he  prepared 
to  resume  his  journey.  '  Will  you  risk  the  chances  again, 
inside,  sir,  or  will  you  try  another  cigar  on  the  box?' 

"  Gentlemen,  I  took  the  cigar  and  the  driver,  instead  of 
the  senorita,  though  I  assure  you  it  was  but  Hobson's  choice 
between  them.  That's  all.  You  may  scatter  now  as  fast  as 
you  please." 

" '  Last  scene  of  all  this  strange  eventful  history,' " 

sighed  Professor  Scumble. 

Hereupon,  dear  readers,  our  guests  shook  hands  with  us 
and  with  each  other,  and  with  many  kind  words  to  you  all, 
and  many  hopes  that  their  gossip  may  find  favour  in  your  sight, 
they  vanished  from  our  own. 


810  THE  ROMANCE   OF  AMERICAN   LANDSCAPE. 

And  now,  "finally,  and  to  conclude,"  as  the  worthy  chair 
man,  kind  reader,  would  say  to  you,  were  he  still  here,  "God 
bless  you,  friends." 

As  our  dear  magniloquent  Megilp  would  express  it:  "May 
you  live  a  thousand  years !" 

As  the  dainty  Flakewhite's  aromatic  words  would  flow : 
"May  all  good  angels  guard  you!" 

As  the  downright  hearty  Brownoker  would  blurt :  "  Good 
luck  to  you,  boys!" 

Or,  as  our  ancient  parchment,  Professor  Scumble  would 
add:— 

"  And  so,  without  more  circumstance  at  all, 
I  hold  it  fit  that  we  shake  hands  and  part" 


THE    END. 


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